


your beauty must be rubbing off

by camerasparring



Series: Cam Boys In Love [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Sex, Barebacking, Ben is Chubby and I am Correct, Bisexual Ben Hanscom, Blow Jobs, Bottom Ben Hanscom, Bottom Richie Tozier, Come play, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Dry Humping, Enthusiastic Consent, Everyone is Vers pals, F/M, Fat Identified Character, Friends With Benefits, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Miscommunication, More tags to be added!, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Spit Roasting, The Boys Became Cam Boys, They are All in Love, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Ben Hanscom, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Trauma, Voyeurism, Webcams, lots of platonic affection, mentions of cunnilingus, they are roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: Richie finds Ben easy to talk to, which is a trait not hard to come by in a friend, but difficult to keep, in Richie’s experience. But as the months of their Junior year dragged on, even without a shared class, Ben stuck around, and Richie got pretty attached.Eddie is… something other than an awakening, yeah, but still something. Richie can’t really put his finger on it, but from the moment they meet things sort of click. But not in the normal way. In the way that you sometimes shift your jaw and something clicks. Off-kilter and crooked, but Richie shifts.So, all in all, when Richie finally moves in the next August, the last of the three of them, he’s feeling marginally good about his future. Nice, cute roommates, cheaper rent, a sizeable bedroom, sharing a bathroom with a man who could help him out of the shower should he slip and fall like he did last year. What could go wrong?--Or: The Tale of Richie Tozier, the Incredibly Naive Extremely Enthusiastic Cam Boy.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom & Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Cam Boys In Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671784
Comments: 113
Kudos: 243





	1. of nothingness of everything of nevermind

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the show. 
> 
> This idea plopped itself into my brain and then spiraled out from there. I'm not usually one to write the Losers as any age under 40 (gotta get that repressed love action, babyyy) but I thought this idea worked best in a different, younger, much less financially stable universe. 
> 
> Major, massive thank you to Laser. Like, I could not have written this without him LOVE U FRIEND. And thank you to everyone on Twitter bcuz you all rock, as always, if you think this is you, IT IS YOU. 
> 
> The title of this fic is from a Hawksley Workman song.

Going into his Senior year of college, Richie Tozier is a moderately satisfied man. 

He and his advisor finally agreed on a plan to get him graduating on time, and the bright and shiny world of Media and Communications feels like, well, _something_ at least. He’s finally found a stable and consistent weed dealer. He’s learned how to drink enough to get drunk but avoid a hangover the next day (mostly), and now he can buy it legally. And he’s found sufficient housing, with only two roommates, and his own room. His own fucking _room_. 

Richie hasn’t had his own room since his youngest sister was born, thus kicking his middle sister, Jean, into his room. They were too old for bunk beds and Richie was too young to fight for emancipation, but at least they were on the other side of the house from a screaming baby. Richie has never envied his parents, but Dana’s incessant gulping sobs made him swear off having kids altogether. Plus he didn’t want to wind up parenting some version of himself. Talk about horrifying. 

His generous and patient parents move him into his new digs with his new roommates the week before classes start, so he can get a jump on unpacking (which he won’t) and bond with “the boys,” as Went puts it, because he’s nearing fifty and wants to watch Richie wince when it comes out of his mouth in front of his friends. 

His _friends_. 

Richie’s only known his new roommates, Ben and Eddie, for about a year. They were all in the same Intro to Psych class as sophomores, back when Richie was bullshitting. Since none of them were particularly interested in making psychology an educational _thing,_ they mostly fucked around in the back of the lecture hall, texting bastardized memes of their professor back and forth. 

Ben is an architecture major, a good sport, sweet and kind, with boyish good looks and a round face, stocky build and enough strength to pick Richie up in one swift move, as Richie found one day out when he almost tripped down the stairs on their way to class and Ben caught him. Then spun him around for good measure. Richie isn’t ashamed at the half-boner he popped, they were pressed _tight_ together there for a second. He’s known he was gay since age, like, eight, so bulky arms circling him, coupled with Ben’s shining green eyes, wasn’t a fucking awakening. It was just… nice.

Richie finds Ben easy to talk to, which is a trait not hard to come by in a friend, but difficult to keep, in Richie’s experience. But as the months of their Junior year dragged on, even without a shared class, Ben stuck around, and Richie got pretty attached. 

Eddie is… something other than an awakening, yeah, but still _something_. Richie can’t really put his finger on it, but from the moment they meet things sort of click. But not in the normal way. In the way that you sometimes shift your jaw and something clicks. Off-kilter and crooked, but Richie shifts. 

Eddie’s a pitbull in the body of a chihuahua, snapping terse but loyal and big-hearted, when you get to know him. Richie’s not sure Eddie likes him, but much like Ben, he sticks around, too, so Richie tries to keep optimistic. Eddie laughs at his jokes, for the most part, and when he doesn’t, it’s usually because he’s teasing back, and that’s a game-changer for more than a few reasons. Richie’s family treats him well and tolerates his stunning volume and penchant for inappropriate timing and motor mouthing, but he knows he’s generally a lot. 

The thing is - Eddie is a lot, too. And Richie kind of likes it. He’s also loud and never shuts up, especially when he’s angry or excited. He’ll talk in blue streaks where Richie can barely get a word in, but Richie hardly even notices when it’s happening. Eddie’s smart and funny and Richie quickly becomes grateful they met, that they’re friends. At least he feels like he can consider Eddie a friend. 

Plus, Eddie’s got boyish good looks, too. In fact, he’s fucking _cute_ , and Richie tells him that, almost as they meet. He’s never been a subtle boy, and he’s not going to start adulthood by becoming a subtle man. 

Eddie had glared and pushed at his shoulder, but he blushed, too, and Richie watched him walk away with a strange knot in his stomach he promptly ignored. He’s certainly not going to become a self-aware adult, either. 

And that’s the kind of line of thinking that prompts him to ask both Ben and Eddie to move in. 

“C’mon, you know it’s a good idea,” Richie’s telling them, triangled around a table. Eddie looks up desperately from his stack of books and blinks a few times. 

“I can’t imagine what could be a _worse_ idea,” he says, then cocks his head, “actually, air dropping a dick pic to Henry Bowers might be up there.”

Ben groans.

Richie leans back in his chair with a laugh. “Fucker doesn’t even deserve to see my dick, the asshole.”

Eddie throws his hands up, highlighter stuck between his front two fingers. 

“Then why the fuck did you send it to him?”

“It’s _funny_.” 

“It’s so _not_.” 

Richie leans back toward the table. “You’re deflecting.”

Ben sighs. “You guys, I’m here, too.”

“Yeah, and you think it’s a good idea, right, Haystack?” Richie asks, flinging off the nickname to endear himself. This would actually be a great situation for him, rooming with friends who haven’t gotten sick of him, splitting the rent, his own space. 

Ben just shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t see why not. My lease is up soon and the place you found looks nice.” 

Richie nods furiously. He had, in fact, done his research. 

“Fuck yeah, it’s a sweet little three bedroom. Only two bathrooms.”

Eddie wrinkles up his nose. Cute. 

“I think we can make it work. None of us are super, uh-” Ben looks to Eddie, who’s still pretending to be reading, “-high maintenance.” 

Richie snorts. 

“What the fuck does _that_ mean?” Eddie snaps, then waves his hand. “Forget it, I’m not going to turn down a bathroom all to myself.” Richie sits up.

“Is that a yes?” 

The pinch between Eddie’s eyes smooths out as he considers it. He paints a line in his book yellow, but he’s barely looking. Richie smiles. 

“Okay, but if you’re both monsters I’m moving out,” Eddie says as Richie’s prematurely pumping his fist in victory, “I would say we should do a month-to-month but I can’t fucking afford that.”

“Edward, my darling, you are simply a peach.” 

Eddie groans, flicking his wrist to indicate he wants Richie gone. Richie complies, waving Ben goodbye and slinging his backpack around his shoulders. He doesn’t want to press his luck. 

So, all in all, when Richie finally moves in the next August, the last of the three of them, he’s feeling marginally good about his future. Nice, cute roommates, cheaper rent, a sizeable bedroom, sharing a bathroom with a man who could help him out of the shower should he slip and fall like he did last year. What could go wrong?

Not a whole lot, at first. 

All three of them get along quite famously. They’re all quiet and loud in the right moments, their cycles blending together in a weird way. Eddie showers and gets to class early in the morning. Ben wakes a little later to take a bath, because, as Richie discovers, he’s also pretty fucking cute, and then eats a bowl of Cheerios and goes to classes all afternoon. Eddie comes back just when Richie is usually waking up, the king of late night classes and third shift part-time work at the campus radio station. 

He’s actually doing pretty well, making a name for himself, which is confirmed when he stumbles out of his bedroom one evening, freshly woken and shirtless, to the sight and sounds of Mr. Eddie Kaspbrak reading the paper like an old man at their hand-me-down Tozier kitchen table.

“I heard someone call you a Shock Jock the other night,” Eddie says flatly.

Richie grins. “Oh yeah?” 

Eddie just nods, eyes stuck on what Richie assumes is the cartoons, mostly because he has no idea what else is in the fucking paper. He’s not boring. Or adorable, like Eddie. 

“Guess I’m getting a reputation, ya know, with the voices and everything,” he says, stretching out his back. He’s kind of regretting settling for a futon instead of dropping money on an actual mattress. It was one purchase too sizeable for Went and Maggie, and while the radio business may be abundant with personal fame, it lacks in monetary compensation. 

When he looks back up to Eddie, he’s squinting hard at his paper. 

“Some of them are entertaining.” 

“Dude, my voices have made you _squirt_ milk out of your nose.” 

Eddie’s shoulders sag. “You are never going to let me live that down.” 

“Hey, I don’t blame you, I _am_ a professional shock jock,” Richie says with a wink, heading for the bathroom to get ready. 

“No one said professional!”

They start eating dinner together, the three of them, once they figure out how their schedules fit. Eddie makes them simple meals with lots of greens, Ben utilizes their crock pot almost every time it’s his turn, and Richie sticks with tacos because they’re easy, cheap and delicious. 

On Fridays, one of them picks up a twelve pack of beer for the weekend and they watch a movie. 

They make a cleaning schedule. Well, Eddie makes a cleaning schedule, but Ben follows it to a t and Richie takes it as a _very_ strong suggestion and really, _really_ tries. It’s not like he doesn’t notice how much better the place looks when he runs the vacuum or keeps the sink clean of dishes, as those are his assigned tasks. Plus, it makes Eddie a little less irritable. After awhile, Richie finds himself waking up a little early on Thursdays to clean, just because establishing habits is healthy, or so Eddie tells him. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that Eddie has his heaviest course load on Thursdays. Or the fact that when Eddie gets home from a long day and sees the place nothing short of spotless, the tension drains out of his shoulders and he flashes Richie a grateful, if not a bit hesitant, smile. 

Richie’s just being a good friend. A good roommate. A good roommate, who turns on his heel when he accidentally catches sight of Eddie coming out of the shower with the door cracked open, or covers his blush when Eddie leans over to clean up a broken glass in the kitchen. Eddie’s a straight dude. There’s really no reason to ruin a good thing when he’s got it. 

Eddie comes out to them by Halloween.

“Oh fuck, dude, thanks for telling us,” Richie says. Eddie huffs out a wet laugh. He looks a little wrecked, folding in on himself at the same table, and Ben shoves a hand over his. Richie swallows around an uncomfortable swell of emotion at the sight. 

“He could’ve said it better, but Richie’s right,” Ben laughs. Eddie looks at Ben, then to Richie. 

“I don’t know why it took me so long to realize.” 

Richie doesn’t feel equipped for this conversation, since he came out at the ripe old age of thirteen, unburdened by an awareness of privacy. Instead, he took it as a challenge to the world, forcing everyone else to deal with it so that he didn’t have to. If he was loud and in their faces, they could hardly shove him back. They did, anyway, but he always went down fighting. 

So he piles his hand on top of Ben and Eddie’s and smiles. 

“You figured it out eventually, Eds,” he says. He looks to Ben. They both nod, turning to Eddie.

Eddie nods back. 

Richie is happy for him. Truly. And so what if he’s also gay? Just because they’re both gay and also good friends does not mean they have to sleep together. Life flows easily now. Still no need to ruin it. 

Once the holidays approach, money is tight and the snow in Chicago makes it hard to travel home, so they all spend Christmas Eve cuddled up on the couch, eating ice cream straight out of the container, watching Die Hard. 

It’s the happiest Richie remembers being on Christmas since he was eight and Went brought home a puppy in a well-intentioned but ill-planned gift attempt. He always had the tendency to splurge on Christmas, despite not celebrating it, maybe because his kids were jackasses who always made him feel bad. But Maggie vetoed it after day two, and though Richie was devastated, the Urises down the street took the puppy in without a thought, so Richie visited her for years whenever he hung out with his best friend, Stan. 

Both he and Stan’s families are Jewish, and their parents were also friends from childhood, so they grew up fast and firm pals from a young age. Stan was a nerd. Richie was gay. Neither of them fit, so they made it work _together_.

Then Stan went off to college in Maine, promptly fell in love with a woman named Patty, and now calls Richie about seventy five percent less. 

Since moving in with Ben and Eddie, Richie’s bitterness about the whole thing is waning.

“It’s gonna suck not having you here this year,” Stan says, when he finally does call. Richie’s chest aches. It’s the first year he hasn’t been home for the holidays.

“I know, man, I’m sorry, it’s just too dangerous. But I’m right in the middle of a Christmas movie marathon with my roommates, so-”

“You celebrating Christmas these days, Went, Jr.?” 

Richie scoffs. “I’m hardly gonna turn down an opportunity to watch Die Hard, Stan.” 

“Fuck, you’re right, my bad.” Stan laughs into Richie’s ear. He misses their movie nights. Sleepovers every Friday. At least now he’s finally got a replacement. One he’s eager to get back to. 

“I gotta get back out there, actually, could we, uh-”

“Oh- oh. Yeah, sorry, Rich, I just wanted to check in,” Stan says. Richie winces. It’s hard to remember why he felt rejected when Stan’s willing to talk now. But Richie assumed this was going to happen. It’s happened with every relationship he’s ever had - they find someone better. He and Stan were attached at the hip for most of their lives, but it had to end sometime. He would find someone to love, and Richie would be alone once again. 

“Thanks, Staniel, I’m good.” 

“Alright, well, don’t ignore me.” 

“Fuck off, same to you,” Richie bites back. There’s a quiet pause before Stan bursts out laughing. 

“You are _such_ an asshole,” he says, but it’s soft and kind, in only the backwards way that Stan can be. “I miss you, man.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it. I’ll call you later this week, alright?” 

Stan laughs again, a little softer. “Sounds good. Talk then.”

When Richie drops back onto the couch, right in between Ben and Eddie, both of them scoot a little closer. Eddie’s thigh on one side, Ben’s thigh on the other. 

“Let’s start her back up, gentlemen,” Richie says. Eddie hums his assent and Ben hits play. 

It all begins on New Year’s Eve.

“Okay, hear me out,” Ben’s saying into his fourth drink of the night, smashed lazily onto the couch, feet in Richie’s lap. 

Eddie grunts. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He’s spread out in the armchair they dragged up from the street and disinfected like nobody’s business. Richie is pretty sure it was just for show, just to make Eddie feel better about the bacteria festering from being literal _garbage_ , but Richie doesn’t give a shit. He woulda slept on the thing without the twenty bottles of carpet cleaner they found in the utility room downstairs when Larry wasn’t looking.

“Hey, man, I said to _listen_ first,” Ben says. Eddie takes a big gulp of wine. Richie smiles. He’s such an old lady, always grabbing for the cheapest bottle of Pinot Grigio when they load up for a night of drinking. 

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“You’re not, but I think it’s cute that you _think_ you are,” Richie snorts.

“Fuck off and let Ben talk,” Eddie says. Richie squints at him. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“I was talking to this guy at the- _shit_ , at the- little Christmas social thing the Architecture Club did,” Ben says, through burps. That’s what he gets for popping their cheap bottle of champagne early. 

“I can’t believe you’re still in an _architecture_ club, dude.”

Ben lifts and then slams his foot down, right into Richie’s crotch. Thankfully, he’s kind enough to miss the important bits, but it hurts just the same. 

“The _fuck_ , okay, I’m just kidding-”

“Just lemme talk, alright?” 

“About what? Becoming cam boys?” 

Ben flushes again, the same look he had when he got home from the party earlier tonight. It’d taken this much alcohol to get him to open up, and even though he seems excited about the idea, he’s still acting like a shy puppy dog. 

It’s really fucking cute, so Richie takes one of Ben’s feet in his hand and starts massaging at the heel. His cheeks tint scarlet. Richie feels smug. 

And interested. 

“Peter said he makes a ton of money doing it,” Ben says, biting at his lip while Richie strokes a hard line up the bridge of his foot. Eddie breathes a high, fleetingly skeptical sound from next to them.

“Yeah, but it’s _having sex_ on the internet,” Eddie says, chopping his hand through the air, “can you imagine if someone _found_ that? I mean what about jobs in the future, or dating, or doing anything professionally ever again-”

“He maintains a whole other account with an-anonim- he’s anonymous.” 

“Yeah, Eds,” Richie agrees, running his hand a little further to rub at Ben’s calf, “it’s not like we’re putting our names out there. We could even do a fancy angle or s-something, so you can’t see our faces.” 

Eddie falls back into his chair with a heavy sigh. Richie’s hand keeps mindlessly working over the coarse blond hair on Ben’s legs. They sit in silence while each of them consider the proposition.

“So, like,” Eddie starts, voice small, “just- hypothetically. We would all-” 

Eddie’s hand sweeps in a circle over all three of them. 

“Eddie can’t even say the word sex, so I’m not sure he should be allowed to do this,” Richie says, the thrum of booze and the feel of Ben’s bare skin getting to him. It’s been a long time since he’s touched anyone like this. Since he’s _wanted_ to touch anyone. 

“I can _say_ the word sex, it’s just- it’s-”

“I know, s’weird,” Ben says, pressing up into Richie’s touch. Richie’s breath catches, his suddenly interested and intoxicated dick right under where Ben is fidgeting against his lap. 

“Is it? I mean, Ben is the straight one here and he’s suggesting it,” Richie says. He has no idea why he’s so on board. Fuck, it’s probably just the liquor. He hasn’t gotten laid in so long. He needs the money. And he trusts these guys. 

“I’m not, uh,” Ben whispers, leaning forward, foot shifting _again_ , “I’m not exactly. Um.”

Eddie gasps. “Wait, hold up, you’re not _straight_?”

Ben pulls his feet down, whirling to sit upright. Richie tries not to be disappointed. But then again-

“I’m probably, like, _mostly_ straight, but yeah, I’ve- I’ve done some. Uh. Some stuff.” Ben coughs into his hand. Richie groans. What is with these fuckers? 

“No way I’m fucking either of you with this pathetic level of dirty talk,” he says. 

Everyone freezes. 

Richie is a little numb, and he’s a lot drunk, but even through all the fogs, he can sense the tension. And it’s not all bad. 

He turns to eye Ben on the couch. 

Richie’s been attracted to him since the beginning, that’s no surprise. But he’s never really _thought_ about what he would do, if given the chance. Now, champagne, plus a mild suggestion, plus the sense-memory of Ben’s feet colliding with his dick, equals very _specific_ thoughts. Especially with Ben’s thighs spread like they are, where Richie could just slide down to the floor, pull off Ben’s sweatpants, run a hand up the curve of his belly and-

“Hypothetically,” Eddie says, startling Richie out of his thoughts, “if this were to happen, I mean, how would we- how would we do it?” 

Eddie’s voice is rough and quiet. Richie watches his throat work at something in the lamp light of their living room before turning to Ben, again. Ben licks his lips. 

“I guess we would have to see what comes natural. Peter said he and his friends just sort of, like, talked about it beforehand, the stuff they were into and the stuff they weren’t, and then they just-” Ben scrunches his hands together. 

Richie has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. 

“So like- no piss or shit, that kinda thing?” Richie muses, trying to dig out what could be some of his hard lines. Eddie and Ben both hiss in disgust. 

“What the fuck, _of course_ ,” Eddie says. Richie shrugs.

“I don’t know what you guys are into, I’m not here to judge.” He takes another sip of his drink. The buzz is definitely helping. 

Richie’s never really talked about sex with his friends, not in any detail, or any honesty. It’s not like he’s a virgin - he’s slept with. Well. Two guys. But they weren’t amazing experiences. He knows how to fuck, and he’s done some _stuff_ , as Eddie and Ben would put it, and he’s been told he’s good enough at it. It all felt good. But not great. There weren’t any feelings there. And the guys kind of just… gave up on him. There was no reason to discuss how he felt or what kinda shit he liked when he wasn’t getting it from any one person on the regular, like Stan. And Patty was Stan’s first. 

This is different. Richie would expect this conversation to feel awkward, or stilted, and it’s not like it’s _easy_. But there’s something else in the air. 

“Pretty sure not judging is an important component here,” Ben says. Eddie lifts his head a little with a nod. 

“Yeah, fuck, sorry, Rich,” Eddie says sincerely. Richie’s stomach turns. Must be the drink. 

“It’s- anyway. Let’s uh. Game plan?” Richie points his glass at each of them. Eddie throws his hands up, propelling a stream of wine onto the carpet. He stares at it for a beat before shrugging. “Fuck it, it’s white, I’m not cleaning that up.” 

“Oh my god,” Ben says, cracking up, and soon they’re all heaving with laughter. Ben falls back to lean against Richie, heavy on his chest, gripping at his thigh as his body shakes. Eddie crawls over to sit on Richie’s other side, and then they’re wailing, spurring each other on when none of them can manage to stop, tears beading at their eyes as they lose the thread of what was even funny to begin with. 

When they calm down, Richie feels so happy and so safe that he catches his breath and forces the words out. 

“Can I throw something out there?” he asks. Ben and Eddie both grunt encouragingly. “Could we- could we make sure this doesn’t, like, fuck anything up?” 

Eddie hand quickly finds his other thigh. 

“Of course not, Richie,” Eddie says. Ben hums.

“Yeah, man, we’ll always be friends. And if it gets too weird, or if it _starts_ too weird, we can always stop.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, fiercely. Richie kind of wants to cry. Classic mood-killer. He breathes through it and focuses on the feel of warm palms holding at his legs. Then he switches gears. 

“So we’re gonna try this out, right?” 

The nods sweep through them again. 

“Okay,” Richie says, and he feels Eddie’s hand grip a little tighter, and he’s bold and turned on and drunk, but he just- “if I told you I kinda wanna kiss someone right now would that be-”

“We can kiss,” Ben says, and Richie whirls from the hold of Eddie’s big, brown eyes to look at him. A whole shiver travels through him. 

“Yeah?”

Ben’s nodding, and Eddie’s hand is still on his thigh, and Ben’s is on his _other_ thigh, pulling him closer, and Richie is leaning forward before he knows it, but he sees Ben’s lips and Ben’s worried eyes and he wants to kiss the concern right out of him. So he does.

Their lips meet with a small click, but it’s drowned out by the gasp behind him from Eddie. It’s slow and then a little hard. Richie _loves_ it. Ben is a considerate and gentle kisser, but he can get dirty when goaded, and Richie’s nothing if not enthusiastic when he’s got his mouth and hands all over a hot guy. And Eddie’s hand doesn’t leave his thigh the whole time. Instead, it starts slowly stroking back and forth, dangerously close to where Richie is hardening in his pajama pants. Then Ben sweeps a tongue over his bottom lip and Richie moans. 

Ben pulls away with a hand on Richie’s face, moving back to cup his neck, and Richie gasps in the space between them. 

“I think we should probably pick this back up when we’re all sober,” Ben says, and Richie’s nodding and breathing and licking at his lips and he can still _taste_ Ben and he’s so excited for tomorrow he can’t even think straight. 

Then he turns to see Eddie and almost comes in his fucking pants. His brown eyes are practically black, pupils spread through all the color. His lips are bitten red. Richie considers giving him a turn, because he’d really love to know how Eddie tastes, too. Probably clean and light, something like citrus or cucumbers, soft and barely there, but just enough to be him. But then Eddie’s blinking out of his daze, and Richie remembers they’re shelving this til tomorrow.

They all break apart, hands shielding where all three are tenting their pants, and when Richie finally lays down in bed that night, hand around his cock, he thinks of Ben and Eddie in the next rooms, thinks of how they’re stroking themselves, and how they might touch him tomorrow. 

He falls asleep fast and hard. It isn’t until he wakes the next morning that he realizes they completely missed midnight. 

Richie worries, in the harsh light of day, that Ben and Eddie will call everything off. 

He doesn’t have to work until the 4th, and their classes don’t start until then either. It’s not great for his wallet but he’s looking forward to the first days off since the beginning of his junior year, when he got this job. 

After he showers and throws on a lazy outfit, he finds Ben and Eddie waiting for him at the table. 

Both of them jump when he approaches. 

“Hey, guys,” Richie starts, heading for the full pot of coffee and noticing a giant stack of pancakes, “been busy this morning already-“ 

“Eddie and I were talking,” Ben says, strong and sure, “and we’re totally on board.” 

Richie nearly spills his coffee all over the counter. His whole body flushes. 

“Wow, That did not take long at all-“ 

“We need the money,” Eddie says. Richie’s a little more than surprised. Ben was up for kissing, the memory of his eager eyes will make for great spank bank material for at least a few months, but Eddie was hesitant. He seemed unsure, though sweet and supportive. So maybe he’s just in it for the money, is that so bad? As long as he knows what he’s doing. And that’s not up to Richie to decide. 

“Well nothing has changed for me since last night,” Richie says, “and you know full well I am a thoughtful drunk, so I’d trust his decision making any day.” 

Silence. 

Richie looks between them, then down to his coffee. Over at the pancakes. 

“Who- why is there a mountain of-“

“I couldn’t really sleep so I figured I’d feed us, at least,” Eddie says in a rush. He’s jiggling his leg under the table, and Ben coughs out a laugh. 

“I’m glad I’m not the only one eager to get things started,” Ben says. Eddie’s biting his lip as he looks up at Richie, and Richie’s brain short circuits. Were they both… _waiting_ for him? 

“I mean, I have the next few days off, so if you guys wanted to-”

“I’ll go get the camera.” Ben throws himself out of his chair and runs to his bedroom. Eddie laughs, a little shaky, and they wait in another bout of silence for him to return.

They decide to set up in Richie’s room. Ben’s is the biggest, but that’s because he has an aquarium full of fish. It relaxes him, and he’s told Richie (he can talk for _hours_ , (especially if you get him drinking) that it’s appeal is part meditation and part taking care of something, which makes him feel important. But Richie and Eddie agree they’re not doing this in front of dozens of beady little fish eyes. 

Eddie seems paranoid about people recognizing his room, because he’s just been accepted into the Law program, and has some hare-brained notion that he might, one day, have a _public image_ to uphold.

Richie already has a public image, and it entails mostly sexual innuendos over the airwaves, so he volunteers his room almost to stay consistent to this cultivated personality. The futon stretches out to be bigger than either Eddie or Ben’s mattress, so that’s an added plus. It’s not exactly comfortable, but they pull the cushions off the couch and pile on the blankets and make a sprawling set up that actually looks enticing once they’re done. They set up the camera on Richie’s desk, even though each of them has a _phone_ , but Ben assures them it’ll be safer this way. So says his _friend_. 

Richie’s staring down at their sex fort, wondering if he’ll ever actually meet this mysterious _Peter_ , when Eddie drops his pants. 

“I’m gonna lie down,” he says, nodding, and then does it. He’s still in a t-shirt, but Richie’s eyes are drawn to his crotch and the small pair of tighty whities stretched over it. 

“Should we _start_ lying down?” Ben asks. 

They stare down at Eddie. 

“Will someone just do something?” Eddie whines, and Richie shakes himself out of his own head. He was having plenty of thoughts last night. 

Now’s the time to follow through, Tozier. 

“I almost started blowing Ben last night, so we could start there,” Richie says, mostly to Eddie, because he might be less ashamed than these morons, but he still ain’t perfect. 

Ben squeaks. Richie turns to see him shading that same deep scarlet from last night. Richie grabs one of the many pillows, a long, flat one, and throws it onto the ground. 

“Here, sit on the edge of the bed,” he tells Ben. 

Ben is a gentleman in jeans, or perhaps just the least presumptuous of all of them, considering Eddie and Richie stuck to pajamas and sweats. He unbuckles and removes them quickly, just like Eddie before him, until each of them is mis-matched in attire. Eddie’s bottomless, Richie’s shirtless, and Ben’s making his way toward wearing absolutely nothing at all. 

Then Ben pushes his boxers to his feet, stepping out of them and taking a seat. Richie swallows. Then kneels. 

“Did I mention I thought about this last night?” Richie asks, and it makes Ben laugh, which eases a little of the tension. They’re all a bit wound up, Richie can tell, but he forges on. He didn’t think he would be the ring-leader here, but they all have their hang ups. Apparently getting things started is not one of Richie’s. And following along is definitely not one of Ben’s. 

“Yeah, what’d you think about?” Ben asks. Richie sputters, spreading Ben’s legs to get a good look at him.

“Touching you, mostly,” Richie tells him, trying his best to sound alluring, “mouthing over your stomach.”

“Yeah?” Ben asks. It sounds hesitant. Richie nods, tongue stuck in his mouth.

Ben’s belly hangs a little low, soft and round, and Richie smooths a hand over the curve of it, just like he wanted to last night. The hair is gentle against his fingers. Richie _likes_ it. He wants to dip lower, but looks up to make sure Ben’s still with him.

His eyes are large and glassy, but then he opens his mouth. 

“You wanna keep going?” Ben asks, voice rough. Richie groans. It worries him, the enthusiasm he’s clearly showing, but then he remembers the nervous, horny staring from this morning and grips a hand around the head of Ben’s cock. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Ben whispers, hand flying up to grip Richie around the back of the neck. It’s not insistent, just holding him there. Richie’s heart hammers in his chest. Ben feels so good in his hand, heavy and hot, hardening by the second, and Richie pumps over him a few times, slow and lazy. 

“You good?” Richie asks, and Ben huffs out a breath.

“Yeah, yeah, that feels good.” 

Richie hums and breaks away to lick across his palm. The wetness makes it a little smoother, he’s able to move faster, fucking Ben’s dick through the circle of his fingers. His mouth waters at the sight of the tip poking out at him, again and again, red and beginning to leak. Richie’s about to ask if he can use his lips when Eddie finally sits up.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, breathless. His hand holds at Ben’s hip, brushing where Richie’s fingers are splayed across Ben’s thigh. _We’re all connected_ , Richie thinks, then shakes it off. 

“Can I?” he asks, looking to Ben, who’s beginning to pant out humid breaths into the space between them. His hips mount a slow, circular motion as Richie keeps stroking him, clearly eager, and Richie wants more than a little to have his face fucked. Ben would do it right, be gentle, but _god_ , Richie would love to see him lose it. 

“Yeah, please.” 

Richie descends without a moment’s notice. As soon as the bitter taste of precome is on his tongue, he hears two sharp inhales above him. He slides his knees back on the pillows so he can look up without killing his neck, desperate to see both Ben and Eddie, and he’s not disappointed. Both are watching him with rapt attention. 

Richie feels warm and content under the guise of an audience. Thankfully, he thrives on attention. And he loves sucking dick. 

Ben’s is especially amazing - thick and a bit long, curved naturally upward to fit snug against his palette. Richie wets the head, building up saliva, and reveling the feel of the heat on his tongue. He swirls around the glans, under the ridge, before taking in more. It hasn’t been _too_ long, but he wants to take it easy. And Ben doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Richie,” Ben pants. Richie can’t keep an eye on too many things at once, he wants to focus on getting the job done, but he sees Eddie’s head bow low, and then Ben gasps. 

Richie sets a wet and easy rhythm, using his free hand to tug gently at Ben’s balls. His other is still resting against Eddie’s. When Ben’s hips twitch up, Richie groans deep in his chest. He pulls off with a garbled gasp.

“You can- holy _shit_.”

Richie’s struck dumb at the sight of Eddie and Ben hungrily making out. Then Ben moves back when he realizes Richie’s stopped. 

“Y-y’okay, Rich?” he asks, as if his wet cock isn’t sliding against Richie’s stomach where he’s leaned forward. Eddie’s eyes are hazy and stuck on Ben, looking almost irritated that he’s been interrupted, until he turns to look at Richie. 

Eddie’s mouth is bitten and red, this time all because of Ben. He’s heaving, palming at his own dick, fingers flexing against Richie’s. 

Richie’s suddenly achingly hard in his jeans. How did he not think this would be so _hot_? 

“Yeah, I- Yeah,” Richie says, then clears his throat when it threatens to stick, “just wanted to say you can _definitely_ fuck my face, I mean. I’m up for that.” 

“Oh,” Ben says, at the same time Eddie groans out, “ _Fuck_.” 

Richie stuffs his face back full of Ben’s dick before he comes in his pants. He hears the wet sounds of Ben and Eddie resuming their making out and tries to focus on making Ben feel good. 

A few hours later, they’re flopped onto the couch, crowded around Ben’s laptop. 

“You really think we should watch this back?” Eddie asks, and Ben’s already nodding.

“Of course, that’s why we did it.”

“Yeah, Spaghetti, we have to gauge whether it actually _looks_ good before we humiliate ourselves on the internet,” Richie tells him, shaking at his thigh where they’re, yet again, pressed together, side by side. Touch feels a little easier, now that they’ve… well. Richie will assign labels to it after he’s seen the recording. Trying to suss that out now is kind of like picking your favorite apple out of an orchard. Impossible. 

“Spaghetti?” Eddie says, with wide eyes.

“Eddie Spaghetti, I’m into rhymes,” Richie says with a yawn. Man, sex will really take it out of you, even at the budding age of twenty one. “Now hush, I wanna relive making Benjamin come in under five minutes.” 

Ben flushes, but hides it his sip of beer. “I was- it was the whole _thing_ , I mean, Eddie’s _tongue_ was in my mouth-”

“Hey, man, you don’t have to explain yourself, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Richie brings his feet up to fold under himself. His knees knock against both of them, but no one moves. Richie’s starting to get used to it. 

Ben hits play on his laptop and they watch the first part in almost complete silence, shifting occasionally on the couch. Richie is absurdly reminded of their Christmas viewing of Die Hard, of their Friday night movie nights, snuggled up and watching something innocuous, like the newest Chris Pine flick, but then Richie is gifted with a very close-up, very naked shot of Eddie’s ass on screen instead. 

Chris Pine is an attractive man, but he ain’t got nothing on Eddie’s perky little behind. And Richie hasn’t even _felt_ it yet. _My god, I’m probably going to have a chance, if there’s a next time_ , he thinks. 

Eddie on the screen is circling the bed, completely nude, like a predator surveying his territory. Richie is being laid out flat on the blankets, breathing hard from when Ben just recently came down his throat. Ben’s wiping himself off at the forefront while Eddie starts pressing kissing to the insides of Richie’s thighs. 

Richie glances down at his thighs on the couch, imagining Eddie’s soft lips. The way his tongue dragged through the thick patch of hair around his cock. 

Then video-Eddie starts licking at him, and Richie hears his own strangled moaning loudly emanating from Ben’s speakers. It _should_ be embarrassing, right? Watching himself get a blowjob? But the view is good, from the side, so whoever is watching gets a great shot of Richie’s dick slipping into Eddie’s mouth, and Richie’s clenching stomach, and how Eddie’s hands glide up Richie’s chest to pinch at his nipple. 

Ben approaches them then, on the screen, leaning down to kiss Richie where his head is starting to thrash from how Eddie’s sucking him. Eddie’s mouth was like a fucking vice, wet and warm and _perfect_. He paid so much attention to how Richie responded, changed up speed and pressure whenever Richie asked, which he did _a lot_ , as he’s noticing now, a stream of commands floating from his screen-mouth between languid, horny kisses with Ben.

Even in bed he can’t shut the fuck up. 

But… from the video, it doesn’t look like anyone _minds_. Eddie’s watching him carefully from between his legs with heavily lidded eyes, gripping tight at his hips to help him thrust forward when he wanted. And he _wanted_. He tried to control himself, but Eddie was almost as enthusiastic about having his mouth fucked as Richie had been. 

Richie watches himself palm at Ben’s cock where it’s hardening again, all three of them getting louder as things heat up. 

Eddie shifts next to him on the couch. 

“I think this, uh, is. Well. Um,” Eddie mumbles, before Ben cuts him off.

“I’m fucking posting this,” Ben says, then turns to look at each of them. “If that’s okay?” 

Richie looks to Eddie, whose eyes are glued to the screen, where he’s bringing Richie to orgasm with his mouth and his hand, popping fast and hard up and off, then curving his palm around the head, a vicious onslaught of sensation that almost gave Richie a heart attack. 

Just as Richie’s coming all over his stomach, Eddie puffs out a deep breath.

“Let’s do it,” Eddie says. Richie hums in agreement. 

It takes them a few days to set everything up. Ben wants to post on this website Peter told him about, where all of his videos must be housed, too. Neither Eddie nor Richie really inquire about Peter’s experience. Richie doesn’t particularly want to _see_ one of Ben’s friends fucking other random dudes. Richie watches porn, but something about having a connection to one of the subjects ekes him out. It’s not like he’s going to watch his _own_ stuff. 

And it’s not like he’s vibrating out of his skin because he wants to try it all again. And maybe go a bit further. 

Richie got his mouth and his hands and his tongue around so much of Ben, but Eddie was stingy. He was a tiny little man with a plan, and most of that plan involved sucking Richie dry and then jerking off without a single hand on him but his own. Richie had watched him in fucked-out fascination as Ben came hard again, all over his fist, but Eddie watched him right back. The desperate, twitching arousal on Eddie’s face was enough to almost get him ready for a second round. 

He would have gone again. Next time he’ll really push himself. See how far he can go. And maybe finally get to kiss Eddie. 

That is, if there is a next time. But that remains to be seen. 

They haven’t really discussed it, since the initial aftermath and the decision to post the video at all. Even as Ben is about to hit publish, a whole three days after the ‘incident’, Eddie’s eyes are wide and frightened across the room, like he’s about to fly over and sweep the laptop off the table in a last minute show of panic.

Just in case, Richie distracts him with a giant pot of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Even though Eddie complains about how much butter is one serving of it, because he’s annoyingly stringent about what goes in his body, Richie knows it’s his favorite comfort food. Eddie has what amounts to two servings in one giant bowl, and ignores the goings-on in the living room as Richie and Ben gear up to watch the filthy comments roll in.

Eddie’s curled up under a heated blanket and watching shitty reality television when Richie’s resolve breaks. 

“Wow, these fuckers are really _nasty_ about it, although I guess I’m not- oh hey, Eds, this person says he wants to ‘see that tight hole destroyed!’” Richie grins over at Eddie from the couch. Ben hiccups a laugh into a bite of the frozen pizza they made after Eddie finished the rest of the pasta. 

Eddie’s face goes red. “That’s… specific.” 

“Yeah, well, I think hiding behind a creepy avatar probably makes it easy,” Richie tells him. Then again, they’re the ones fucking for money. “How exactly are we making money from this again?”

Ben grimaces at the screen, but then blinks up at Richie.

“Viewers can choose to give tips, if they want,” Ben answers, “if we’re good enough.”

“Have a little faith, Benny-boy.” Richie crawls to Ben’s end of the couch to pull him into a headlock. Ben struggles against him, flinging his empty plate onto the table in front of the screen. They tussle for a few seconds before Richie gives up and rests on Ben’s chest. He’s not quite as broad-shouldered as Richie, but his arms still make the reach to envelop him. It’s friendly. Richie’s never really been touched like this. Not leading anywhere, no intentions. Just… comfortable. 

It freaks him out a little, so he swallows around the lump in his throat and keeps asking questions. 

“Are we going to foray into fucking anytime soon? Cause these pervs seem _very_ on board.” 

Ben nods. “Most of the comments are about that, actually.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, scraping out the last of the cheese sauce from his bowl. Richie chuckles to himself. At this point, he would guess that butter is actually Eddie’s favorite food. Richie’s not sure why he’s so strict about nutrition when he clearly enjoys the grease and looks like a fucking angel. Both of these guys could eat whatever the fuck they wanted and Richie would still be drooling into their cheap, rotting wood floors. 

“Everyone wants to see somebody railed,” Richie says, as another “someone should fuck that little twink” comment rolls in. It’s crude, but Richie can’t disagree. After wetting his whistle in Eddie’s mouth, so to speak, he’s a little curious as well. And Eddie definitely seemed up for it.

“Well I’m not _opposed_.” 

Richie and Ben both divert attention from the hundreds of comments ( _hundreds_ , what the ever-loving fuck, it’s been barely two _hours_ ) to look at Eddie. 

“Are you serious?” Ben asks from behind him. Richie can feel the way his heart picks up, tucked tight against his back. 

Eddie shrugs, leaning forward. “I assumed that’s where things were leading.”

Both Ben and Richie take that in. Richie certainly _considered_. But assumed - no. Assumptions are dangerous. Especially with something like this. Turning down this opportunity also skates close to something like danger. 

“I would need very little convincing,” Richie says. 

“All the websites say that viewer interaction is important for higher tips,” Ben says, and Richie’s struck by how seriously he’s taking this whole thing. “But we should definitely discuss it first.” 

“Oh yeah, in great detail,” Richie says. Both of them afford him a pity laugh. It wasn’t necessary, but he appreciates it all the same. Joking around is enough for him to feel calm. Having friends respond is just icing on the cake. 

“Are we all- I mean. Feeling okay?” Ben asks. Richie shifts in his hold. 

“I’m fine,” he says, quickly. 

“I’m feeling… better than I thought,” Eddie says. 

Eddie’s been mildly hesitant through this whole thing, but Richie is surprised that he really commits when it matters. Not that any of this _matters_. It’s for the cash. 

“Okay, but we’re all still in this.”

“I think that’s the next step, Benjamin,” Richie quips. 

“Richie, I’m serious.” 

Richie clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m- I’m totally fine. Seriously.” 

Eddie nods. “Me too.” 

Richie hears Ben’s mouth pop open right next to his ear when the computer dings. 

“Is that a good ding?” Eddie asks, “Or is that a ‘we’ve been caught’ ding? Oh my god, does the FBI ding your computer when they figure this shit out?” 

“Eddie, hush,” Ben says, and Richie lifts off of his torso so he can attend to whatever alerts keep appearing. At first, Richie thinks maybe they’ve tapped into a whole slew of computer viruses. But when the blue screen of death fails to appear, he realizes the alerts thrown up on the screen are all… tips. 

“Holy shit.” 

Eddie rises out of his chair for the first time in hours. “What?! Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“It’s- money,” Ben answers, clicking around on their account.

“We’ve broken the bank, fellas!” Richie reaches a hand out to pat Eddie on the back, since he keeps hovering closer and closer to where they’re seated on the couch. 

“That’s not what breaking the bank means, dumbass,” Eddie bites at him. 

“Holy fuck, we’ve got a couple hundred dollars already.”

Sure enough, a rolling total starts. 

Eventually, Eddie gives up and drops down onto the couch to see the screen easier. Richie scoots over so they all fit, right in the middle. It’s slowly becoming his favorite place to be. And speaking of-

“I’m gonna volunteer as tribute here, my dudes,” he says, cloaking the shake in his voice and the excited thrum of blood hardening his cock between his legs. Eddie turns to him. 

“What does that mean?” 

“If we’re gonna fuck, I assume it’s gonna lead to a sandwich,” Richie says, pawing at Eddie’s knee. Eddie squints at him.

“And a sandwich is-”

Richie guffaws. “My god, did you even _watch_ porn before you started making it?” 

Eddie pushes at Richie with his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, I’m too lazy to find my phone and search that on Urban Dictionary.” 

Eddie is warm and sleepy and dumb, and Richie is horny and pleased and shoved between his two fuck-buddy friends, so he grabs Eddie’s hand in between his and smushes them all together in a crude demonstration. 

“Just imagine I’m your hand,” he says, and Eddie’s eyelid twitches. “And you and Ben are the other-”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Eddie says, pulling his hand from between Richie’s. It doesn’t move far, planting right back on Richie’s thigh. Richie heart beats steady in his throat. It’s… different. Why is Eddie always fucking _different_? 

Richie shakes out of that useless line of thought and flits his attention back to the computer. 

They’re almost at five hundred dollars. 

And they haven’t even fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya still with me, pals? Chapter two should be out soon, and things are only gonna get hornier from here. Thank you so much for reading and please let me know if you liked it!
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter, where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring)!


	2. you're under water now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's been able to successfully avoid breaking down the barrier of his feelings on the whole thing, despite waking in pool of dried semen almost every morning. He pointedly ignores how often Eddie features in his dreams, especially how many of them are simply about kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this fic has really, really surprised me, you are all so sweet and love Ben so much, I love that for you. Thank you for returning, we get into some heavier stuff this chapter but Bev is here now! 
> 
> CW for lots of parental talk. Parent trauma, mentally abusive parents re: food/disordered eating and body image. Some mentions of homophobia and antisemitism, no slurs or anything explicit, just discussion of some things everyone has been through. Stay safe, friends. 
> 
> Big thank you to Laser as always. Thank you to everyone on Twitter, ilysm.

Over the next six weeks, they make due with a few more blowjob/handjob shows - this time live, so they can _interact_. The money is great, and Ben refuses to get the necessary equipment to hear anyone’s voices, so he usually just reads off viewer comments as they scroll in. And they are nothing short of creative. 

One time they have forty minutes between classes and manage to make Eddie come twice. SluttyHole469 is fairly pleased. 

And Richie is, too - since it’s his fingers, knuckle deep in Eddie’s ass, rubbing at his prostate, that achieve it. 

They all get tested. Richie pretends to put up a fight when Eddie insists, even though he got tested on January 2nd and came back clear. 

Even so, with their final semester in full swing, it takes a little while to add fucking into the rotation.

Friday movie nights are a bust with Eddie’s new schedule, and Ben starts “making plans” with some mystery person, unbeknownst to Eddie and Richie, until they finally drag it out of him one night.

“I’m fucking dating, okay?”

Richie and Eddie look at each other, back together on the couch. Ben wipes a hand over his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, as if they weren’t just goading him into giving away personal information. As if he somehow _owes_ it to them. Richie fucking sucks at boundaries. Besides, no one gives a masterclass on how to navigate friends-with-benefits-and-also-recording-yourself situations at this dead-end university. 

Eddie coughs out a pathetic laugh. “You don’t have to apologize, Ben, it’s not really our-”

“But it _is_ , isn’t it?” Ben interrupts. “It’s kind of your business, right? I mean, we’re. It’s not like we’re all dating, but it’s- we’re in each other’s lives in a more tangible way than just roommates.” 

Richie blinks. Well that’s certainly an interesting way of putting it. 

Ben’s eyes are soft and warm, despite the outburst. 

“Guess so,” Eddie says. 

“I don’t wanna sideline you guys, I- it’s not like I don’t enjoy what we’re doing.” Ben’s voice is rough with guilt. Richie leans forward.

“We fucking know that, dude, and you don’t have to put any part of your personal life on hold for us.”

Eddie’s nodding at his side. “Yeah, you can date. We should all be allowed to date,” he says, then pauses to catch both their eyes, “right?” 

Richie’s throat flares with a dry itch. It’s true. What they’re doing isn’t tied to any sort of exclusivity. It’s not like he would be surprised if he found out either of them were fucking anyone else, or dating anyone else, but… he hasn’t really considered it for himself. What they do is enough. It’s more than enough, actually. But still-

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Richie says breezily, spinning his tongue until saliva refills his mouth.

Eddie clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, I, uh. I’m also really enjoying-” he gestures between all of them, “-this.” 

Ben’s eyes shine with a smile. Not for the first time, Richie considers if Ben is one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. Richie takes a hint from Eddie and begins a swift nod. 

“I can’t believe you guys actually agreed to this,” Ben laughs, glancing up at them through long, curious eyelashes. Richie knows a prod for attention like no one else, but he’s pretty sure no one deserves the reassurance more than Ben. 

Ben, who sucked his dick so well and so long the last time they recorded that Richie felt his soul ascend his body. He presses his legs together at the memory and grins. 

“It _has_ been quite the chore to receive and give so many orgasms in such a short amount of time,” Richie says.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Ben, it’s really rude of you to be so good at sex,” Eddie agrees. 

Ben starts to cackle, but Richie and Eddie team up to continue.

“I mean, your hands are _far_ too soft-”

“Yeah, and your mouth.”

“And your body is like, endless planes of delicate, sexy skin-”

“Your eyes pierce through my goddamn soul,” Eddie agrees, slapping at Richie’s thigh, both of them airing sarcasm, but Richie knows it’s the fucking truth. Ben is _hot_. 

They devolve into an embarrassing level of giggling for three grown men, but Richie comes away feeling light and happy. He tries not to think about Ben finding someone serious and calling the whole thing off. About _not_ having this in his life anymore. 

“Seriously, dude, you are-”

Ben raises a hand. “You guys can stop. I’m- I’m starting to believe it, I promise.” 

“Starting?” Eddie asks. Ben sighs. 

“Look, okay, let’s not dance around the topic. I’m fat, okay?” 

The stark bluntness contrasted with their previous juvenile outburst is like a slap to the face. But Ben cuts the pity off at the source.

“I’m not saying that for, like, sympathy, it’s okay to ID as fat, alright? And it’s not- I’m not, like, trying to get you to tell me I’m _not_. I know I am, and I’m starting to think. I’m starting to think that’s okay. I’m fat and I’m,” Ben grits his teeth, sucking in air along with the courage, “I’m attractive, too.”

“Fuck _yeah_ , you are,” Eddie agrees, readily and enthusiastically. Richie nods. 

“You’re one of the hottest dudes I know,” Richie tells him, keeping his eyes forward so they don’t land on the _other_ hottest dude he knows. 

“Thanks,” Ben says, “I’m not gonna lie, this whole thing has really helped with that. And also Bev.” 

Richie’s brain lights up, prickles with electricity. “ _Bev_?”

“Yes. It’s short for Beverly,” Ben says curtly.

“Ah, yes, of course, thank you for clearing that up,” Richie snorts. Eddie grips at his thigh. 

“I’m glad she’s treating you right, Ben,” he says, genuine and soft. 

“It’s super new, but, yeah, yeah, she does.” Ben rubs at the back of his neck. He looks… happy.

Richie shakes his head like a dog. “Alright, fellas, that’s my quota for sincerity today, let’s cut it out.” 

They all trade smiles around the room. Richie wants to scoop them both up into a group hug. Instead he fishes out their last row of Oreos from the cupboard and flips on House Hunters, just to hear Eddie rant about how staged it is. 

  
  


At the end of February, Richie takes a few more shifts over for Lara, who graduated in the fall and worked early mornings. It ends up being mostly traffic control, and Richie hates it. He shows up, but he grumbles endlessly about it, because he’s an _adult_ , until he notices Eddie waking up earlier on his Lara-less days to shove a giant thermos of coffee into his hand and bid him goodbye. Sometimes Richie even gets a banana for his trouble. It’s not exactly the banana Richie _dreams_ Eddie will give him, but he’s trying not to be pushy about it.

Because Richie dreams… quite a lot. 

He’s been able to successfully avoid breaking down the barrier of his feelings on the whole thing, despite waking in pool of dried semen almost every morning. He pointedly ignores how often Eddie features in his dreams, especially how many of them are simply about _kissing_. They still haven’t managed to kiss in real life, though now he kind of figures Eddie just isn’t into it. They both kiss Ben plenty, and Ben’s an _amazing_ kisser, so it’s not like there’s any room to complain. Ben loves kissing them. They love kissing Ben. It’s mutually beneficial. 

But then Richie wakes with his lips tingling, pressing at the spot on his neck where dream-Eddie was bruising a hickey into his skin, and he wishes, just for a second, that he could see what it feels like in real life. 

Apparently, all it takes to break the Kaspbrak Kiss Barrier is… well, Richie’s not sure what breaks it, exactly. But he certainly breaks it. Mark him down in the history books and he can die a happy man. 

It starts when Eddie slams the door closed on a random Wednesday afternoon at the beginning of March.

“My last class of the day got cancelled,” he says, shucking off his jacket and boots, and then his shirt in quick succession, “so that means we have four hours until Richie has to go to work.” 

Ben’s twiddling away on his laptop and Richie is just watching TV, their usual Wednesday routine, so both of them shrug a shoulder at each other and follow Mr. Eager into Richie’s room. 

Richie keeps their set up pretty much the same, even when they’re not recording. They’ve found little moments between classes, and after cleaning everything up a few times and needing to reset, he got bored of it and just slept on the pillow fort. Eddie disinfects it thoroughly after each time. Which means he both avoids sleeping in semen and gets to witness Eddie’s cleaning routine while he preps presentations for class.

Almost as soon as they sign on, the comments begin. Eddie’s not the only eager one. Not that Richie isn’t also enthused, he _is_ , he’s practically hard just walking into his bedroom, but it’s a next step. A next step they’ve talked plenty about. But-

“How are we doing this?” Richie asks, voice catching halfway through. Eddie smiles, and that helps. But it also doesn’t. What is going _on_? 

“I thought your little hand demonstration summed it up pretty well,” Eddie says. His lips are crooked with a grin, eyes tight on Richie’s. Richie’s ears are rushing, so he almost misses it when Ben starts reading off requests. 

“Both of you should fuck that little one, rimming, double penetration, Jesus, that is not happening, but that’s here a _lot_ ,” Ben aims the camera at his face and smiles weakly, “Not today folks!” 

Richie’s eyes go wide. Not _today_?!

Ben keeps listing off suggestions like items on a menu. Eddie lays back on the pillows, hand drifting over the bulge in his jeans while he listens. 

“Double penetration, double penetration, spit-roasting the hairy one, I assume that means Richie-”

“Oh, that’s something,” Eddie says, at the same time Richie squeaks out a desperate, “ _Yes._ ” 

He and Eddie lock eyes. Eddie’s legs are spread across the mattress, jeans stuck tight to the curve of his hips, the crook under his knees. Richie pushes aside all hesitation and crawls onto all fours between them. 

“I’m up for that,” Ben says, giggling behind them. Richie groans as Eddie’s eyes roam his face, moving closer, until Richie’s hands find Eddie’s fly. 

“Yeah, me too,” Richie agrees. Eddie’s throat bobs. He shoves a hand over Richie’s to stop him. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rich,” he says, cool and collected, though Richie feels his hands vibrating just the slightest against his, and he wonders if it matches the beat of Eddie’s heart in his chest. “You’ve gotta get ready first.” 

Richie sits back on his haunches and drags in a breath. Eddie’s right. He stands to remove his pants, then his underwear, reveling in the hot gaze of both men in the room. They’ve been pretty clear about loving his dick - the both of them. 

Eddie’s not as much of a motor-mouth in bed as he is in every day life. Actually, Richie’s the one who has done most of the talking up until this point. Ben is more of a sweet-talker, a grateful grunter, and fuck, is he a hell of a one-man show when he’s finally hit his climax. 

But Eddie is calm and quiet. He whines and gasps and gives some choice, curt phrases, but there’s nothing that’s pressed him into more than a few words. Richie counts himself lucky that some of those words have been, “Fuck, Richie, your _dick_.” 

It looks like he wants to say it again now. Instead, he tugs at the waist of his jeans, popping them off, too, while Richie slides to the end of the bed. 

“Get the-” Richie starts, but Ben is already there, pulling their giant bottle of wholesale lube out of Richie’s drawer. 

Richie’s not sure when Ben got naked, but he is, and the onslaught of skin and hair and soft, perfect curves turn Richie’s mouth suddenly dry as he approaches. Ben’s hands gentle over Richie’s thighs, pressing them apart, and Richie tips onto his back on instinct. 

“Gonna get me nice and open, Benny boy?” Richie shifts his shoulders into a comfortable position, trying to ignore the way Eddie’s bony, bare legs frame him.

“Yeah, you want one?” 

“Give it to me,” Richie tells him, and then there’s a slick, warm finger pressing at his entrance. He moans outright. 

“Put your leg up,” Eddie says from above him, behind him, all around him. Richie’s already floating on the feeling, lost in the body heat of both of them, imagining how well they’re going to take care of him, and a shock of arousal floods his system when Ben inches in further. He shifts again, pulling his foot up to follow Eddie’s orders. 

“Like that?” he asks, just trying to get Eddie to talk. Fuck, he wants to hear _both_ of them, but something about anything dirty pouring from Eddie’s little button rose mouth other than a flushed _oh my god_ is so fucking thrilling he could come from it. 

Eddie nods. 

Trial and error. 

Ben’s pushing in and out, down and around, and Richie wonders why they haven’t done this before, because he can already tell that Ben knows what he’s doing. Usually Eddie is the one on his back, fingers up his ass. But Richie’s been fucked before. He loves doing the fucking, he _really fucking loves it_ , but with these guys, he’s more than willing to be on the other side. 

Hands scale the planes of Richie’s legs, his belly, his chest while digits pump steadily back and forth, taking him apart. 

Eddie’s got a tight grip on his shoulders. Richie can’t see his dick, but he wants it in his mouth, and when Ben adds a third finger to the stretch, Richie gasps out a groan and attempts to flip over. Ben holds a big hand over the center of his chest. Richie’s breath catches at his strength. God, he wants Ben to fuck him. And he wants to suck Eddie off. 

What the _fuck_ , it’s like he was meant to be spit-roasted. Thank you, kindly, anonymous stranger. 

“You ready, Rich?” Ben asks. He always calls him _Rich_ when they’re doing this, and it’s getting to be a hair-trigger if he says it outside of bed. Ben’s voice is rough and dirty. Richie flicks his head up and down.

“Yeah, yeah, wanna get on my stomach, between Eddie’s legs.” 

Eddie whimpers. Richie takes it as a challenge, even half-fucked out as he is. Thankfully, Ben stayed well away from his prostate, otherwise he’d have been a goner after two minutes. 

“Why don’t you get him nice and wet and then I’ll slide into you, okay?” Ben asks, even and sure, and Richie almost collapses back onto his stomach. This newfound confidence spins Richie’s world on its axis. Then he looks up to see Eddie’s dark eyes, his hands reaching out to draw Richie closer. 

“C’mon,” he says simply, and so Richie does.

Richie has sucked Eddie off a few times, and it’s always a heady, delicious experience. But it’s usually in the middle of things, lost in the fog of arousal and a feral need to get as much of each other as possible. This feels slow and deliberate, even as Ben thumbs a lubed line over his gaping hole from behind. Richie tries to focus on that, instead of the gentle slide of Eddie’s cock into his waiting mouth. 

“Fuck, Richie, yeah,” Eddie sighs, eyelids fluttering, hand fisting gentle in Richie’s hair. 

There goes that. 

Richie surges forward so fast he slips away from Ben, so desperate to swallow Eddie down to the root. His nose dives into a thin, dark patch of curls at the base of Eddie’s cock and then back up, and a familiar choked gasp emanates above him. He licks at the sides with wet, messy lips, sucking and smacking in a rude show of noise. Richie wants to drive Eddie _crazy_ , holding around Eddie’s dick with one hand and pumping it up to meet his mouth. 

The warmth of Ben at Richie’s side cuts his attention from where he’s licking over the slit, and he reaches a hand out to pull at Ben’s hip, dragging him closer. He lifts his head and sucks in a breath. Ben looks down at him with interested but concerned eyes. 

“Can you eat me out a little?” Richie asks.

Both Eddie and Ben groan. Ben hops to it like it’s his job. Which, Richie guesses, it kind of… is.

Richie shoves two hands under Eddie’s thighs to pull him down further on the bed, then fits his mouth back around his cock. He feels Ben spread him open with his whole hands. 

“I just showered.” 

“Mmm,” Ben hums into him, breath warm and everywhere. His tongue is insistent, rubbing hard circles, then lapping gently over the center of him. An endless stream of _Ben is so good at sex_ loops through his brain as he thumbs at Eddie’s hips, turning back around to focus on the task at hand. 

“Richie.” 

Richie raises his head and sees Eddie’s blown gaze, eyes fuzzy on him, then glancing back to watch Ben’s ministrations. There’s a tongue slowly inching its way into his ass, and a hard, gorgeous cock edging at his chin, and Richie wants to stretch out this moment forever, jump head-first into a black hole where time stands still and this can be his new reality. He grabs hold of Eddie’s penis, stroking him a few times while Eddie watches. Then he gets back to _work_. 

They flow together easily, just like they always do, pushing and pulling at Richie, eating his ass and fucking his face and pressing greedy hands all over him, adding up the parts they can each reach to equal the whole. When Ben’s done holding him wide open and getting him sufficiently wet, he rolls on a condom and pauses with a hand on himself. 

Richie’s still doped up on Eddie’s dick and Eddie’s fingers in his curls and Eddie’s nails gently digging into his shoulder and neck, so it takes him a second to realize Ben is waiting on him. He pulls off begrudgingly, even though Eddie’s stomach is starting to tense up, and Richie knows what _that_ means. 

“Two things,” Richie says, flexing his throat around the sting of giving a thorough blowjob, and Eddie listens closely, it’s so fucking _cute_ , even with his legs spread and his dick leaking.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, and Richie can’t hold in the shit-eating grin, because his eyes are stuck on Richie’s mouth, his lips, and then Eddie’s _fingers_ are roaming over his chin and trying to press against the pad of his tongue and Richie completely forgets both of the things. 

“Uh,” is all he can manage. Luckily, as per usual, Ben maintains most of the brain cells between the three of them. 

“You ready for me?” 

Ben runs a soft hand all the way down the curve of Richie’s spine, stopping at his hips to lift. Richie goes back up onto all fours. Eddie shifts down a little, so Richie’s face is level with his dick, and that’s all the suggestion Richie needs. 

Ben’s behind him again in an instant, and Richie feels the tip of him press inside as Eddie presses in at the same moment, and Richie’s eyes roll back into his head at the dual sensation. 

It’s like being completely out of and in control at the same time. The level of trust the three of them have built up over slow and gradual introduction into their sexual world leaves Richie constantly secure that either of them would stop in an instant. The whole thing is all-encompassing when he’s in the middle, he’s unable to tell whose hands are where or who is saying what. But he feels safe and taken care of, and at the same time, the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. It’s a level of hard he keeps achieving again and again with these two. And if this keeps going on, he thinks he’s going to break through the fucking ceiling and fly into space. 

Ben fucks like he does everything else: perfectly and deliberately. He’s working up a solid rhythm as soon as he settles inside and checks Richie’s okay, which he _is_ , since Eddie has taken over most of the work of the blowjob as well, bouncing Richie up and down on his cock. All Richie’s doing is pushing back and swirling his tongue. 

All Richie’s doing is being fucked at both ends. And it’s destroying his grip on reality. 

Eddie’s first to break, loud and somehow still quiet, a deep rumble in his chest and a frantic gasp as he removes Richie’s mouth and pumps come onto his own stomach. Richie’s too jazzed up on Ben’s amazing dick, sliding in and out, pressing at his prostate, to worry about wanting to swallow. Richie buries his face in his hands as Ben fucks into him harder, moaning at Eddie coming apart at the head of the bed.

“Ben, _god_ , fuck, that’s good,” Richie says, and Ben grips him tighter around the hips to anchor them together. Richie’s listening to the slapping of their skin, reaching down between his legs to stroke at his own, neglected cock, when he feels questioning hands circling his neck.

He barely looks up in time before Eddie’s mouth is on his. 

If there weren’t a very attractive, very capable man currently fucking the living brains out of him, Richie might react in a more sensible manner to Eddie kissing him for the first time. Instead, he shoves a demanding hand around the curve of Eddie’s jaw to pull him closer, clashing their teeth with the force of Ben’s thrusts. Richie moans, and _moans_ , and fucking _moans_ into their gasping, frantic slurping at each other, but Eddie’s-

“I’m close, guys,” Ben rasps out, and Richie lets his head fall from the kiss to let Ben go to town. Eddie’s watching him again. His lips are shiny. From Richie’s- From kissing Richie. From making out with-

“I’m close, fuck, I’m close, too,” Richie tells them, and Eddie bends forward awkwardly to slot their mouths back together and Richie _whines_. 

“C’mon, baby,” Ben grunts, fucking in hard and fast, and Richie’s chest clutches at the name, and Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, and how good everything feels, and then Ben reaches a hand around to pump Richie’s aching dick and he comes on the spot. Ben’s coming then, too, deep into the condom, and Richie tries to squeeze around him, knows how good that feels, but Eddie’s still breathing deep against his tongue, hands holding him tight around the face. 

“Rich- Richie, _fuuuuuuck_ ,” Ben finally groans. He falls across the length of Richie’s back. 

Eddie immediately pulls back so Richie can lie down, but he pets over Richie’s hair, and Richie’s in a pool of his own come and covered in three different people’s bodily fluids, but he’s the happiest he ever remembers being in his life. 

  
  


Now that fucking is officially _on_ the menu, and now that Richie knows Ben is a master-class specimen of fucking, he decides to work on his stamina. After some minimal research and maximum time spent shopping for the perfect running shorts, along with a two day wait on his package because he’s a man with _money_ now, Richie’s darting out onto the streets to jog a city mile. 

He makes it one city block. At least he looks good doing it. 

The deep purple shorts crawl unhappily up Richie’s ass as he stumbles back through their apartment door. His breathing still hasn’t slowed, but that might be because he hiked the stairs in another dumb moment of bravado, as if his endurance was already tailoring to his interests. Eddie’s messing around with his new, fancy phone on the couch when Richie slams open the fridge to chug the first carton of whatever liquid he sees. 

He forgoes the jar of bacon fat and instead lands on the gallon of orange juice. It’s sliding happily and acidicly down his throat when he hears Eddie approach from behind.

“What the fuck are you-”

Richie twists around. “Hey Eds!” 

Eddie’s face drops from squinted irritation to a whole lotta nothing in half a second flat, but Richie barely registers through the thrum of adrenaline and sugar in his body.

“I fucking _jogged_ for the first time in my life, and did you know that this block is fucking beautiful? There’s so many _dogs_ that live around here, man! I got to pet, like, two of them, and I totally would have pet more but I was trying to do the- oh yeah, I’m jogging!”

“You said that,” Eddie says, flat and still. His eyes are doing some sort of dance, like they’re trying to look anywhere but Richie’s own, drifting down an inch and then snapping back up.

“Yeah, _yeah_ , it was horrible. But also kinda great,” Richie says, swigging another gulp of orange juice before putting it back in the fridge, lest Eddie interrupt him to lecture about how gross drinking straight out of the carton is. Then again, that would be pretty adorable. But Eddie looks… blank. So Richie keeps talking.

“I mean, I didn’t get very far, obviously, but I bought this new outfit, and I thought it might help me keep up while we’re, ya know, _doing_ shit, ‘cause you’ve got yoga, and you also run? Don’t you? I think I’ve seen you leave for morning jogs sometimes before you have classes, at least last semester you did, but I know you’ve got lots of early mornings this time around. Anyway.”

Richie grabs an orange from the little basket of fruit Ben put out for them a few days ago and falls into a chair at the kitchen table.

“I just wanted to give it a shot, but what’ve you got going on today, Spaghetti?” he asks, grinning ear to ear, full of restless energy and high on the slant of sun on Eddie’s legs. Eddie, who is taking slow steps toward Richie, circling the table until he’s right next to him. 

Eddie’s hands cup either side of Richie’s face. Juice lodges under Richie’s fingernails as he grips tight around the orange in his hand. 

“Eds?” he mumbles as Eddie leans down to kiss him, sweet and chaste. He lifts his head up to look Richie in the eyes, searching. 

“That okay?” 

Richie rises out of the chair to lick back into Eddie’s mouth. He’s not willing to lose this opportunity while he’s got it, not with Eddie shining in the morning sun, sleepy and rumpled in pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. Not with Eddie clinging back to him, pressing their chests together and walking them back until they’re flush against the fridge. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Richie’s saying into Eddie’s neck, biting and sucking spots onto his skin. Eddie wraps a hand around Richie’s neck to pull him closer. 

“You’re just such a- _Fuck_ -”

Richie pulls back, smile stuck, “Well fuck you too, man,” he laughs. Eddie scowls up at him, but Richie sees the light in his eyes and it shoots fireworks through his whole torso, spinning wild and dirty deep in his abdomen. 

“Fuck _you_ , I was gonna say you’re a good kisser.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, asshole, now get back to it,” Eddie says, baring his neck for more sexy chomping, “I wanna have something to show Ben when he gets home later, so it better stick.” 

Oh. 

Richie tries not to let his grin slip, because of _course_. Of course it’s for show, for _the_ show. Richie’s a good kisser and Eddie just wants to make this a thing. Another friendly thing. Kissing between two dudes. 

Richie’s been dreaming of kissing Eddie for weeks, and his brain hums when he remembers how hungrily Eddie went at it when it finally happened, and he’s got another chance to keep at it. Even if it doesn’t go any further, Richie likes it. It feels good. 

So he gives Eddie a bomb-ass hickey against their fridge. 

In return, Eddie gives him one back. 

They break apart panting, and Richie is more than hard, so he mumbles excuses about exercise and sweat and beats it to the bathroom to take a shower before Eddie can even answer. He _does_ shower, and maybe beats something _else_ , and then tries not to feel bad about the lack of grace time before he’s dialing Stan’s number. 

“Trashmouth, what the fuck is up,” Stan answers lightly. Richie rolls his eyes. 

This is awkward. How is he going to-

“Hey, Stan the Man, how’s things in the great state of Maine?” 

“Ah, you know how it is,” Stan answers back, and Richie can tell he’s smiling, the happy bastard, “I got the brains, I got the looks, and now I got the lady, so things are coming together pretty nicely.” 

Richie’s stomach drops. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’s called Stan a few times since Christmas, and things are getting a little easier, but it’s not like he’s told Stan about the Great Cam Experience of 2020. But Stan knows he’s gay. So he figures he can fudge it. 

“That’s great, my friend, that’s really great to hear. Give my regards to Patricia, but listen-”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he’s met with his own reflection in their tiny, above-the-sink mirror. A towel wrapped around his waist. Chest hair stuck in damp curls. A bright red suction-cup size mark under his jaw. 

He loses his nerve.

“I have no idea what I’m doing after graduation and I’m a little freaked,” he grits out, then laughs, high and tight. 

It’s not technically a lie. The radio station promised him a job for as long as he wants it, but he’s not sure he wants it at all. Doing something soul-sucking and disgusting (not to mention often edging on misogynistic and racist, when _certain_ coworkers are around, and he’s being encouraged to _fit in_ ) pays some of the bills, but the _other_ stuff he does pays them a lot better. But he has to keep up appearances. Plus, who knows how long this is going to last. He can’t count on it.

Stan pauses, and Richie almost panics, wonders if he’s been caught. Somehow. Then Stan chuckles knowingly.

“Aren’t we all, Rich?” 

Richie shivers. Goddamn it, Ben.

  
  


Unfortunately, Richie’s near-panic about the kissing (and the _Eddie_ ) cannot be assuaged by friends or the like, because that means he would have to tell someone. Or worse, be honest with Eddie about it, or maybe Ben, but that all feels far too complicated. And then the kissing might never happen again. And he can’t have that.

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Eddie wants that, either. Because he starts kissing Richie a _lot_.

They dive deep while they’re fucking, panting and drooling and biting at each other’s chins. Richie comes a few times just from the feeling of Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, flicking in and out like it’s got something to prove. Richie loves the way Eddie kisses during sex - controlling and slutty. 

If Richie had a type, that would be it: hook, line and sinker.

But they also just… kiss. In the morning, when Eddie leaves for class and he catches Richie coming out of the shower in time. In the evening before Richie leaves for work, with his regular thermos and piece of fruit. When Richie goes in for a high-five and Eddie meets him lips first. In the middle of the night, when they’re both up for water, and Eddie’s hair is mussed and curled against his temple. 

They make out on the couch. They make out with Eddie bent over the kitchen table. They make out against the wall right outside Richie’s room. They lick and suck and give each other hickies and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Eddie initiates it all. Richie never, _ever_ minds. 

In fact, he leaves most kissing sessions so hard he can barely remove himself fast enough. Because it never goes further than that. Just kissing. Just panting and gripping and holding at each other’s arms. Just being pressed right up against one of his favorite people in the world, the guy he has dreams about almost every night, the guy he probably, kind of-

But then something happens, like he’s in class, or he’s at work, or he’s got to do some semblance of homework before he gets kicked out. Or Ben’s new- _Beverly_ shows up. And he’s got to think about something other than the fact that he’s in far too deep with no way of getting out. Luckily, Bev is a _great_ distraction.

Richie’s never done well with women. Firstly, he’s very, _very_ gay. Secondly, he grew up with sisters, and trying to embarrass them was usually number one priority, and they always had friends around, so it all averaged out to the negative. And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, they usually don’t like _him_. Maybe it’s his volume, or his penchant for off-the-cuff, emotionally blocked humor, but something ain’t sittin’ right with him and the non-male identified folk. 

Beverly, on the other hand, much like her boyfriend, is a fucking life-changer of epic proportions. 

Richie and Eddie are ten minutes into a Smoochin’ Session, as he’s labeled them in his head to keep it light and breezy, when there’s a knock at the door. Richie drags himself off the warm, eager man below him on the couch to wrench it open, only to be met with a hoodie-clad, leggings-wearing, beaming, chiseled-jaw-having red-head on the other side. Richie probably visibly recoils, mostly because she’s _gorgeous_ , and he immediately knows she’s here for Ben. Eddie’s great, and _hot_ , and all, but Richie knows what caliber of woman they both attract, and it’s nothing like _this._

“Is Ben- oh my god, are you _Richie_?” she asks behind a giggle, and Richie soars at the concept of being known. With a _happy_ laugh and not a skeptical squint.

“The one and only, madam!” Richie replies, because no matter the circumstance, he will drown everyone in his own personality. 

Bev flies at him in a hug. Then she slinks back just as fast.

“Oh my god, are you a hugger? I just went right for it, I didn’t even fuckin’-”

“Are you kidding? Get in here, slugger, go _tighter_ this time, I think one of my ribs is still intact,” Richie says, pulling her close again. 

“You’re just like Ben described,” she says back, and Richie’s heart grows three sizes, swells up like that ugly green beast in that Christmas movie Eddie made them watch after Die Hard, and then he remembers Eddie is still straddling the couch cushions, waiting for him to come back, so he breaks away to invite Bev in.

She’s a hit with Eddie, too, because of course she is. 

When Ben finally gets home two hours later, they’re slung in heaving waves of laughter, desperately trying to listen as Beverly tells them about her very first live-model class when she thought she still wanted to major in traditional art instead of textiles and design. 

“They pretty much asked me to leave after a couple days because despite my best efforts I couldn’t paint with solely my own _drool_ , but like- _fuck_ , who has _boobs_ like that? It wasn’t fucking fair,” she hiccups, sipping at her third of the virgin daquiri Eddie spun together when their unexpected company arrived. 

“I can’t believe you asked for her _number_ ,” Eddie says, impressed. Richie nods.

“You are a fucking legend.”

Bev just shrugs, a flush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. 

“So how did you meet our Benjamin, anyway?” Richie’s asking, just as the door to the apartment creaks open. “Well, speak of the devil!”

Ben creeps around the corner looking sheepish, but when he catches sight of three people draped across various furniture in his living room, his cheeks immediately pink. It reminds Richie of Bev and her flush, and he thinks _They match perfectly_ before he realizes how confused that makes him feel. 

Then Ben smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late, babe, I thought you weren’t off til 5.” 

Richie’s chest tingles when he hears the pet name. He tries not to think about the last time he heard it. In bed. With Ben’s hands all over him. _Fuck_. Turns out no matter how cool your fuck-buddy’s girlfriend is, there are still going to be dumb _emotions_ all tied up in it. 

Bev just grins back. “No, it was 3. But it’s off from my normal schedule.” Eddie perks up.

“What do you even do? I feel like we haven’t asked you anything about yourself.”

“Oh, fuck that,” Bev waves at them, “I practically burst in here and started rambling, you don’t have to apologize. It’s just an office job.” 

Eddie turns quickly to Ben, like he’s just remembered something.

“Well, we just got all the stuff to make pulled pork sandwiches, Ben and I were going to tag-team it if-” he glances between them, and Richie watches him closely, his mouth still a little bitten from when they making out before, “if you two don’t have any plans, that is.” 

Ben and Bev share a moment, shrugging and communicating as a couple. Richie and Eddie stare awkwardly at the ground.

“No, no, Eddie, that sounds great. I would be honored to have you boys cook for me.” 

Eddie’s head lifts with a beaming smile.

“ _Great_ ,” Eddie says, and Richie’s heart flutters.

After that night, Bev is a regular presence around the apartment.

Richie loves it. 

But, as they say, new relationships will put a crimp in your cam-sex life. 

Well, okay, no one says that, but Richie’s going to _start_ because as soon as Bev starts showing her delightful, talented, hilarious self around the apartment, he starts getting laid exponentially less. 

He’s got enough money at this point to keep him going, especially since Eddie sat them all down and insisted they invest it in some something or other, Richie’s probably an idiot for entrusting a guy he’s only known a couple years to handle that crap for him, but Eddie is kinda brilliant and he’s going to be a lawyer someday, so his skills of persuasion are hard to beat. 

And Richie _sees_ Ben and Eddie just as much - it’s not like he misses them. They’re always around. In fact, Ben is around a little _more_ now, since he can bring Bev with him. They have movie nights together, the four of them. They add Bev into the rotation on meal night, and she gifts them with some genuinely amazing Tikka Masala that Richie assumes is culturally appropriative but is also delicious. They get to know each other better, and not just the boys with Bev, but with each other. Somehow, their long nights of movie-watching and giggling at stupid shit turn into meaningful, warm conversations. If Richie hadn’t already been smitten with these two fellas, one Miss Beverly Marsh would have gotten him there with a few prying questions and a flash of that smile. 

But he still misses the sex.

They’re spread out in the living room one night, enjoying the static-y hum of the television on mute, because Eddie likes “the company in the background,” when Bev cracks a brand new topic open.

“Do you guys see your parents much?” 

A stunted breath passes through the room, pierced through the center of all their psyches. Bev’s staring guiltily down at the glass in her hand. Richie’s feeling confident in knowing her well enough after a month, so he gleans she’s not asking because she doesn’t have her own answer. 

Richie bites the bullet and goes first. He has no fucking idea why.

“A few times a year,” he says, slowly, clenching his fists, “they’re kinda busy all the time. I have two sisters, and they’re a lot younger, so. They’re still doing the _parent_ thing. Just not with me as much.” 

It’s so different, so stupidly vulnerable and honest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He doesn’t inspect that. He just keeps going.

“They had my sister kinda late. I think they expected me to be an only child, so by the time I was old enough to like, have _feelings_ and shit I was kinda on the back-burner. It’s not like they weren’t good parents. They really were.” 

Richie hates when he makes his parents out to be shitty. Stan always used to scold him. “They love you, man. You should be grateful.” And he was. He really fucking _is_. But the words still pour.

“I was going through kind of a lot in, uh. In school and shit. Bullying. Being gay in a back-ass Conservative town. I was white, so there was that going for me, didn’t get it as bad as I could have. But I didn’t fuckin’ hide it. And there was always someone there to remind me on the days I may have forgotten.” 

Richie sees some movement in the room, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard enough to say.

“They did their best. I just can’t really be myself around them. So we- uh. No. No, we don’t see each other a whole lot,” he says, remembering the point of the conversation, feeling like a fucking _moron_ for taking it any further than that, but then Ben pipes up.

“I get that, man, I can’t be myself around my mom, either.” 

Richie looks up. Ben’s watching him with a soft smile. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, like it’s obvious. “She was a single mom, and she did a great job, just like your parents, I mean, like you said, I- I feel like an ass complaining. She busted her ass to make sure we were fine after my dad died, and I’m so grateful for everything she did. But my dad was-”

He pauses, and Bev reaches over on the couch to rest a hand on his thigh. Richie tries not to look at Eddie across the room, feet tucked under him in a chair, quiet as a mouse.

“He wasn’t exactly a great guy. Talk about bullying,” he laughs, then stares pleadingly over at Richie, “oh fuck, Rich, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, no, god, it’s fine man, it can be even worse when it’s in your own home. Your own fuckin’ parents, that’s rough.” 

Ben nods, throat working. He opens his mouth to respond when Eddie clears his throat.

“There’s no escape from it,” Eddie says. “It settles in your brain.” 

Ben snaps to watch him. “Yeah, it’s like. It’s like the voice in your head. And it’s all-”

“The shitty things they said to you,” Eddie finishes, sullen. Ben rubs a hand over his forehead and keeps going. God, Richie loves his fucking friends. He can’t believe they’re letting him in like this. He looks over to see Bev listening intently. Maybe she’s his friend now, too. 

What is he, in grade school? Oooh, friends! 

“Yeah, exactly, and it took me so _long_ to not think those things about myself. To not be- to not be unkind to myself. He was unkind to me for so long. I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone else. But sometimes,” Ben sighs, and Richie realizes his eyes are watering, so he flings himself off his own chair and plants it right next to him on the couch. Book-ending him with Bev. It feels right. “Sometimes I didn’t realize I was using so much time and energy trying to be nice to other people and leaving myself in the dust.”

Richie nods, even though he’s not sure he understands. His hand follows Bev’s lead and finds Ben’s other thigh. 

“That’s everyone’s thing, though, right? Being nice to everyone and being the worst to yourself?” Ben asks. Richie kind of shrugs, but Eddie beats him to it.

“Not really, man, I’d hardly say my trauma made me fucking _kind_ ,” Eddie says, speaking the big ol’ T word, like some sort of therapist. 

Richie would hardly consider what he’s been through _trauma_. He hasn’t had it that bad. He’s just got these things that stick in his brain. Things that color how he sees things and how he interacts and how he communicates and that’s- well. It’s different. It’s gotta be. 

“I feel like I went the opposite way,” Bev says, the dam on all this shit breaking down in one fell swoop. “I got _mad_. I left. I shut my father out.” 

They all lean toward her, like they could hear her better, like they could help her that way.

“I hit a certain point- I don’t even know what the breaking point _was_ , really, it was just-”

She takes a single, gasping breath, like she’s drawing power from the room. 

“It was too much. And I blamed the whole fucking world. Everyone but me. Thought if I shut it _all_ out that maybe that would protect me. But it didn’t.”

“I think that’s a natural reaction to being treated poorly,” Richie says, gently. “Trust is-” 

He looks around at Ben and Eddie, and _Bev_ , and realizes with a startling clarity that he actually trusts them. It’s like it snuck up on him. 

Eddie meets his eyes across the room and says, “Trust is hard.”

“Yeah,” Bev agrees. 

Bev and Ben head to bed soon after, exhausted from the heavy conversation, no doubt. Richie is, too. 

Too bad his fucking brain doesn’t know that. 

It’s stuck on, well, _everything_. His own shit and everyone else’s. Eddie and Bev didn’t get too in depth with what they’ve been through, but then again, none of them really did. They scratched the surface, and that felt like enough. That felt like opening up in a way he never has before. And it was fucking scary and liberating all at once. 

Richie and Stan have had talks, occasionally serious, about their lives growing up. Both of them were aware of the bullying, the teasing, the smattering of homophobic or antisemitic graffiti on one or both of their lockers. But they were young. They didn’t know how to verbalize how fucking… bad it felt. Now that Richie’s coming around to realizing how deep it settled in him, they’re far apart. 

And worst of all, through all the bullshit they discussed tonight, Richie mostly can’t sleep because he’s _horny_. It’s been almost two weeks since they’ve recorded anything. He’s been having a blast with Bev, but he hasn’t even kissed Eddie recently. Forty-two hours, to be exact. And that’s the longest he’s gone since it started. 

Once two am hits, Richie hoists himself from the new bed he finally bought, the biggest one he could find, which Eddie and Ben pitched in for, since they’re, uh, _using_ it as well, and flips his laptop open. His fingers hover over the keys. 

He slams it closed and gets up to get some more water instead. 

He turns the corner into the kitchen to see Eddie tiptoeing to the fridge. He ignores the warmth in his chest at Eddie’s bare feet and shorts. Whenever he comes out in the morning, he’s always wearing _pants_. But these things are small. And they leave very little to the imagination. Not that Richie needs to _imagine_ , he’s seen it all. 

The mystery of the shorts somehow makes it even more… appealing.

Richie’s foot squeaks against the floor and Eddie turns on his heel. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” he whispers, rough and annoyed, “are you trying to fucking kill me?” 

Richie wants to laugh, but Eddie looks _wrecked_. It’s clear he’s been crying, giant bags under his eyes, whites of his eyes blurred out by an unhappy red. Richie wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. 

“No way in hell dude, who the fuck would eat all the mac and cheese and make me watch horrible heterosexuals on HGTV?” 

It works. Eddie deflates with relief, his lips curling into a smile. Richie moves to the sink to refill his glass. Eddie slinks into a chair at the table. 

“Can’t sleep again?” He asks, and Richie shrugs.

“Lots of adrenaline, I guess. That Beverly sure knows how to throw a fun party. Parent complexes and no alcohol?”

Eddie quietly laughs. “I know, it was a lot.” 

“Fuck yeah, it was. My brain won’t shut off.”

Richie fills his glass to the brim, mostly for something to focus on other than Eddie’s silence. He turns to take a seat across from Eddie at the table. They sit in it, mouths shut. Richie’s happy to do it. Eddie could never speak again and Richie would understand. 

He’d hate it - that little bullwhip usually has so much to say. So many opinions that they fill Richie’s days, his empty moments, his goddamn _life_ , but he’d take anything Eddie is willing to give him as long as he stays.

And Jesus fuck, Tozier, is that depressing.

“Mine won’t-” Eddie starts, shaking his head. “Mine won’t either. It never does.”

“That’s no secret,” Richie says. Eddie frowns.

“Fuck off.” 

They smile at each other. 

“I guess I just didn’t realize how- how common all this shit is. The way Bev was talking about her dad was-”

He sucks in air again. Richie waits. He’s never been able to wait like this. Not before. Not with anyone else. 

“It was so fucking familiar.” 

“Your mom?” 

Eddie brings his hands up to rest on the table. Elbows knocking at the wood. He nods. 

Richie’s had an inkling for awhile. Eddie’s mentioned his mom a few times, always in passing, always with an unfamiliar glint in his eye that Richie always took to mean - _do not touch this topic with a ten foot pole_. So he didn’t. But now Eddie’s offering it up to him on a silver platter.

“She fucked my whole head up. For years. My whole life, after my dad died.” He’s pressing his fingers flat against the table, watching them closely as he speaks. “She was so controlling. Made me tell her everything I ate, everything I did, always worried I was going to get sick or get some sort of- some sort of _disease_ , as if she wouldn’t love me if I did, ‘cause it’d be my fault. For awhile she made me log my meals and she would- she- _fuck_ -”

Richie reaches forward to grab at Eddie’s vibrating hand. Pressing gently, just covering it, just there. Eddie takes another deep breath.

“I didn’t realize how messed up it was until I moved away. Then I sort of went the opposite way. Ate anything I possibly could. Spent two months living on ramen and frozen cheesecake.”

“Sounds pretty fucking perfect to me,” Richie says, shaking at their joined hands. Eddie appeases him with a laugh. 

“Yeah, it was _great_. And let me tell you, nothing tastes better when you’ve been denied it for your whole fucking life.”

“Especially ramen, I’m guessing.” 

Eddie nods. “Especially ramen.” 

“You’re full of shit,” Richie says. Eddie’s eyes pop wide. 

“What?”

“You’d take a whole stick of butter over ramen any day.” 

Richie watches a series of totally unknown expressions flit over Eddie’s face. He gives up on trying to decode them when Eddie bursts out a laugh, and instead wonders if Eddie will kiss him again, when he’ll kiss him again, and Richie decides that next time he’ll trace the dimples in Eddie’s cheeks, just in case he doesn’t have another chance. Just in case this is all a dream, this whole _year_ , this whole spectacular thing he found by accident. 

“Do you still talk to her?” Richie asks. Eddie bites at his lip.

“Nah, I- I cut her out, too. Just like. Just like Bev.” 

“Wow,” Richie says. He’s impressed. That’s- “That’s amazing, man. That takes a lot of guts.” 

“Fuck off, don’t tease me-”

“I wouldn’t,” Richie answers, quick and loud. Both their gazes fly toward Ben’s room, but after a minute of no movement, they find it safe to keep talking. 

“Once I got out of there I realized how bad it was for me. She’s still the fucking voice in my head, I’m not sure if that’ll ever go away, but-”

“But at least she’s getting farther away,” Richie says. At first he feels like an ass, it’s not like he knows what he’s fucking talking about, but Eddie breathes a sigh. 

“Yeah. Exactly.” 

Richie feels it swelling in him, lapping at the surface of his heart. He tries to tamp it down, but it’s Eddie and he’s helpless. He needs him to know.

“You’re- I mean, you’re really fucking brave, Eds,” he says, suddenly fascinated with the curve of the wood grain, natural and crooked, like the lines in Eddie’s face, “you took all that control back, after not feeling it your whole life. It takes a lot to make a change like that. Most people can’t even- they don’t even want to admit there’s anything to change.” 

Richie’s eyes slam closed as soon as it’s out. 

They flick back open when Eddie’s hand leaves his. 

Eddie’s standing now, shifting unsteadily on his feet in front of where Richie sits at the table, leaning his head down so they’re eye-to-eye. Richie feels the heat of his body and wants to pull him closer, but he waits. 

Eddie’s hands come up to curl around his face, palms on each of Richie’s cheeks, and then he’s pressing down, down and into Richie, into Richie’s mouth and kissing him like he never has before. Slow and gentle and lingering but full of… something that Richie can’t parse out because he’s too busy being desperately, out-of-this-world enamored. 

Eddie pulls away almost as quickly as he arrived, fingers still dancing a hesitant line over Richie’s cheekbone. 

“Thanks for-” Eddie stops, licking at his lips, and Richie thinks _he’s tasting me, like he wants me,_ “thank you, Richie.” 

Richie nods, stunned and dumb with it, and Eddie slips away without so much as a good night. But Richie figures that was probably enough. 

If Richie was randy and restless before the kitchen _incident_ , there’s no witty turn of phrase to describe his current state of being. 

Other than, maybe, simply fucked. 

But Richie’s not thinking about that right now. Or, he kind of _is_ , as he pulls out his phone for a quick jerk off before bed. It’s been a long night. It’s almost the end of the semester. Some of his classes are coming to a heavy and hectic end, and he’s actually trying to _graduate_ , and that’s all this is. Eddie’s kiss in the kitchen was sweet and grateful, not dirty. Richie shouldn’t be- 

But he is. And it’s not that. 

Nothing strikes his interest. His old faithfuls make his stomach suddenly turn. All he can think about is Eddie’s hand on his cheek. The look on Eddie’s face as he moved closer. 

It’s not- he’s not going to do it. 

He does it. 

Richie has had their show page bookmarked since they started things, just so he could check up on how it’s all coming. He’s only ever tapped into it once, late at night and two drinks in, when he wanted to tease Eddie by reading comments in the voice of Alan Alda. 

Now he’s scrolling through to find- well. He knows what he’s trying to find. 

He knows which video he wants to watch tonight. 

It’s the last one they made before Bev started hanging around. Richie’s conjured it up in his imagination plenty of times already, but tonight he wants the real thing. Pushing past the prickling heat blanket of fear, he presses play and makes it full screen. 

Eddie’s already red-faced, leaning close over where Ben is splayed on his back on the bed. Richie remembers Ben teasing him about being small-framed with a big dick, and Eddie blushing strong and laughing, and his stomach lurches.

Ben cuts out most of the build up in these things, and Richie is kind of grateful. They tend to spend full minutes bickering and kissing, laughing and cracking jokes before getting to it. And that’s for them. Richie doesn’t want anyone else to see that. But he remembers.

He fucking remembers it all. 

Richie remembers the way Eddie had sidled between Ben’s bent legs, pressing fingers into him until he was ready to take his cock. How shiny Ben’s eyes were when Eddie first pushed in. How Ben had moaned, “yeah, _yes_ , give it to me,” as soon as Eddie started up a good rhythm. How Richie had sucked gently, carefully over Ben’s dick while Eddie fucked him. And how when Richie came up for air, Eddie gripped at the back of his head and pulled him into a ravenous kiss. 

He pauses the video and throws his phone aside, chest heaving, hand around his hard dick. He pumps it a few times. Groans. Thinks better of it.

Grabs his phone. Ups the volume from mute to a modest one bar. Licks his hand.

Eddie is grunting into his mouth, in the video, hips twitching into Ben in jerky circles. Richie breaks away and slathers Eddie’s shoulders in kisses, then Ben’s jutted-out thigh, shaking under Eddie’s thrusts. 

Richie bites at his lip as he strokes himself. Video Richie plants hands on Eddie’s hips and steps behind him. God, _fuck_ , this is the best part.

On screen, Richie goes to his knees. Eddie’s still fucking in tight and hard. Ben’s head is thrashing on the pillow, grabbing at Eddie’s sparse chest hair, pinching his nipple, anything to make him moan. But then Eddie bends over in a rush, stuttering a breath, and Richie knows that’s when his porn-counterpart spread Eddie’s cheeks and licked a wet line over his hole. 

Eddie had kept on fucking, kept on nailing Ben’s prostate like a god while Richie ate him out slowly, desperate to taste him. Richie had the time of his life, he fucking _remembers_ , and he wants to do it again. Wants to press him open with clenching fingers and admire the wet hair from his shower and the clean, red opening and shove his tongue inside. Eddie had pushed gently back against him, Richie remembers that too, and for a second, he even hesitated, right inside Ben, just to look over his shoulder as Richie went to town. 

Richie _remembers_. It’s not that he’s watching it happen in front of him. He remembers that look in Eddie’s eyes - the hungry, obsessed stare as Richie took him apart. 

Then Eddie turned back around and jack-hammered his cock fast and hard until Ben came all over himself. 

Video Richie palms a tight grip at Eddie’s hips, pulling him back to bounce on his face, and Eddie slips out as soon as Ben is coming down to let himself be moved. Be fucked on Richie’s tongue. 

Richie had tried to reach forward to stroke Eddie’s cock, but Eddie had slapped him away, rolling the condom off and tossing it into the wastebasket they keep close, since none of them can shoot a basket to save their lives. Then Eddie took himself in hand, and Richie had whined, though he can’t hear it through his speakers, but he knows it happened. He wanted to touch Eddie so badly he was drooling, _dripping_ into Eddie’s hole, making the slide messy and _filthy_ , so he trailed a hand up the seam and tugged lightly on Eddie’s balls instead. 

Right when Richie is pushing at Eddie’s back to make him bend forward, Eddie garbles out a stunned groan. He fucks his fist hard, coming hard, and Richie starts to come too, lying in bed, thighs shaking against the blankets, and only then does he remember Ben lifting up lightning quick to catch some of it on his face. 

Richie loses it together with Video Eddie, who’s curled in on himself, holding at Ben’s shoulders as Ben slaps Eddie’s twitching dick against his painted lips. 

Richie wrings himself dry, missing Ben’s mouth, Eddie’s hands, both of them, both of them touching and kissing and fucking until they’re all spent messes, and it overwhelms him like a cresting wave, spitting tears from his eyes, sobs wracking his body while he desperately tries to avoid smearing his own come all over his clothes. 

It takes him several minutes to stop the crying. The video is long over, prompting him to start it over or leave a comment. 

Richie falls asleep hard and fast, tears drying on his cheeks, come crusting over his hand, Ben on his mind, Eddie on his mind, both of them always on his fucking mind.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, RICHIE. Thank you so much for reading, the next chapter should be out within another week. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment or yell at me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/camerasparring) or BOTH, I love to hear from you if you're able/willing.
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/)!


	3. we are witness to currents we cannot control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now apparently it’s time to face the tough question: where is all of this going?
> 
> It’s never something Richie’s able to answer. At least not before Friday, when they’re gathering in his room yet again to film. When Eddie is stripping down to nothing, his usual routine, and Ben is setting up the camera and pressing play, and then the same old first-time-consistent-as-hell commenter comes flying on in.
> 
> "Every single time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE ARE, FRIENDS. We've reached the end. 
> 
> Listen. I did not intend for this fic to become as poly as it did, but everyone (including me) fell in love with Ben, and that is all I will say. If you are disappointed that some of the tags have been changed/added, I don't know what to tell you. Love is real and I am but a passenger on this wild ride. 
> 
> Thank you to so many people. Q, Bendie, Jaise, Andie, Megan (happy birthday!!!), Bee for the AMAZING art I might link eventually with their permission, so many, many others (seriously ALL OF YOU), but most of all to Laser for being my story buddy and spinning ideas and brainstorming and encouraging me and reading literally every single word of this whenever I asked. This is your baby as much as mine, my friend. 
> 
> Enjoy and HEED THE TAGS!

With the spring, comes a refresh and renew of their previously action-packed lifestyle. They manage a few more times with Ben on the bottom, and then Ben fucking Eddie, and then Richie taking turns blowing both of them, because Richie is kind of obsessed with both of their dicks. And the way Ben holds his jaw while he does it, like he’s feeding Richie his dick, and just the thought of it makes Richie a little hard. 

All of them go to get tested with Bev (solidarity), and when they all make a pact to make it a regular _thing_ , Bev winks at Richie in a way that has him truly wondering. He shakes it off and punches “get tested with favorite losers” into his phone for every three months. Recurring, baby.

Eddie keeps kissing him, but there are significantly more (by, like, one) people around, and that cramps their style. Eddie seems to increase intensity to make up for the infrequency, until one time, in their usual spot against the counter when they’re both up late, Richie is sure Eddie is about to get to his knees and suck him off right there. He doesn’t, just stares and pants and goes to bed, like he always does. 

But Richie can’t even jerk off. It doesn’t help.

He just waits until the next time. 

It’s just that it’s a bit more… rigid.

“Bev’s all tied up with her final project for the end of the semester, so I thought we could schedule a time to film later this week,” Ben says casually, around the table at breakfast, like they’re discussing the stock market, or how difficult it is to get candle wax stains out of fabric. Richie was careless with his fancy purchase at Yankee Candle and the pillow fort in his room, sue him. 

“This Friday night actually works for me,” Eddie answers, checking his watch. “I’ve gotta get to class, but just text me and we’ll set up a time.” 

“You say that like you’re not gonna be here for dinner,” Richie scoffs, and Eddie smacks him gently over the head. He’s all show. Then he pinches Richie’s bare forearm _hard_. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Richie howls. Eddie grins down at him.

All show and a little bite. 

“I won’t be home for dinner, I’m. I have plans.” Eddie stares at the ground as he scrapes out the rest of his Raisin Bran into the garbage and puts his bowl in the sink. Ben and Richie eye each other.

“Is it a date?” Ben asks, and Richie narrowly avoids choking on his orange juice. He looks to Eddie, who’s still facing the sink, and tries not to prematurely panic. No. No no no, that can’t be it. But even if it is, it’s not like he can tell Eddie-

“No, of course not,” Eddie finally says. 

Oh, thank fuck. 

“I would tell you guys if I had a date.” He stares daggers at Ben, who rolls his eyes.

“I _told_ you when it mattered!” 

“Likely story, Benjamin,” Richie says, poking at Ben’s foot under the table to make him blush. 

Eddie sighs and turns toward them. 

“I’m going to therapy.” He clenches his eyes shut. “After we all talked and everything about our parents and shit I decided to make an appointment at the health center, and so I’ve been going once a week.” 

Flares of pain and emotion strike at Richie’s chest and maybe the pain is _from_ the emotion, but he’s not sure, and Eddie’s eyes are open again, so Richie coughs out something before he swallows his own tongue.

“Eddie, that’s, wow.” 

Eddie stares at him, and it’s that soft heat that kills him, radiating something deep in his bones that makes him feel seen and wanted. And he’s not even sure if Eddie _does_ want him, maybe he just likes to kiss his roommates breathless when he finds out they replaced the unsalted butter because they were running out. Richie can still feel the indents of Eddie’s hands on his hips from where he’d pulled him into the hall.

Ben clears his throat. “Is it okay if I ask how it’s going?” 

Eddie looks at him, then back at Richie. 

“Yeah, yeah, I- it’s good,” he relaxes into the counter, then must think better of it, taking his usual seat at the table. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’m- I’m talking much more than I thought I would be.” 

“Is it rude to say I blame Beverly for that?” Richie asks. Ben laughs, then shrugs, all with bright eyes. 

“Nah, I think that’s pretty fair.” 

“She’s great, Ben,” Eddie says, all smiles, and Richie feels a janky sense of pride, “I’ve really liked having her around, and like. Having you around more, too. That’s been great.” 

Richie didn’t expect it so sincere, but he can’t argue. Instead he nods. Ben beams at both of them.

“I’ve liked it, too.” 

Richie suddenly feels uncomfortable. He shifts his chair, squeaking it loud against the floor.

“So, Friday it is, pals?” 

He stands, throwing his bowl at the sink. When he turns back, they’re both staring at him. 

This is getting to be too much. Ben has Beverly, and Eddie is going to therapy, and soon he’ll get a boyfriend, and Richie will just be hung up. Stuck on the both of them, aged forty and alone, thinking about that one time he had tons of sex with a couple of fall-away-friends from college for money. 

“Yeah, yeah, uh. Friday sounds good!” Ben calls after him as he grabs his coat and leaves, out into the warming spring air, still in his pajama pants with absolutely nowhere to go.

Friday comes a lot faster than Richie would like. He spends almost every waking moment thinking about kissing Eddie again, about being with Ben, being between the both of them, and he has no idea what any of it means. It plows through his brain without his permission. He finds himself staring into the distance, just zoned out on what can’t even be called a relationship. 

The honeymoon period is over, Tozier. Now apparently it’s time to face the tough question: where is all of this going?

It’s never something he’s able to answer. At least not before Friday, when they’re gathering in his room yet again to film. When Eddie is stripping down to nothing, his usual routine, and Ben is setting up the camera and pressing play, and then the same old first-time-consistent-as-hell commenter comes flying on in.

“Every single time.”

“Are you serious?” Richie asks, peering over Ben’s shoulder. 

“What?” Eddie asks from the bed.

Ben waves a hand in the air. “Just the DP guy again. Or person. I don’t- I’m not figuring all this-”

“What is DP?” Eddie asks. Both of them turn to look. “Oh, it’s- okay, I know what it is, don’t say shit, Richie!” 

Richie cackles, pure bright joy. It feels good. Eddie smiles, shaking his head, but then shrugs. 

“I’m ready to try.” 

They’re back to the staring again. Richie thinks he hears Ben drop something, but his eyes are stuck on the way Eddie’s jaw shifts under his gaze. 

“Double penetration,” Ben says. He states it. Like a fact. 

Eddie nods, crawling up on his knees. 

“Yeah, I’ve been- I’ve been _trying_ some stuff cause you guys kept mentioning it and- why are you looking at me like this?” 

Richie’s probably drooling, actually, on top of staring, because the possibility of double penetration was enough to make him break but the thought of Eddie _trying it out on himself_ was a life ruiner. Does Eddie have a _dildo_? 

“I didn’t uh. I guess I’ve just never thought about it? Like for real?” Ben says first, ever the hero. 

“Yeah it’s kinda. Intense. I don’t even know if I’m into it,” Richie says, then stammers when Eddie’s face falls, “in porn, I mean. When I’m watching porn.” 

“Well I wouldn’t mind it. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Eddie falls back against the pillows on the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest. Richie aches to look at him these days. Everything he does sets something alight in Richie’s heart. Things are getting dangerously close to spilling out, setting everything ablaze. And blowing casually over a roaring flame won’t help matters one bit. 

“I’m. I guess if Eddie is up for it I could give a shot,” Ben says, and Richie shuts his eyes. “I’ve heard it feels pretty good.” 

“You’ve _heard?_ From who, Peter?” 

“No, no, I’ve heard it, too, like you’re fucking two people at once,” Eddie says, then quieter, “it’s always intense when I try, and that’s just my dildo and my hand.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Eds,” Ben sighs, and Richie feels something stirring in his stomach. 

“Think of it, Rich,” Eddie starts, eyes trained on him, “I can ride you. I haven’t done that before.” 

Eddie slides up onto his knees and across the bed, and Richie shifts forward to meet him, recognizing the look in his eyes, that heat he gets before they’re going to kiss. Eddie’s hands rub across his chest before he plants a kiss on Richie’s nipple. 

“And then Ben will come up from behind. Press his dick right against yours inside.” 

He’s whispering into Richie’s ear now, then sucking a quick spot on his neck, and Richie feels Ben circle around and cover his back, and suddenly the idea seems so simple. 

“But how do we- you can _fit_ that?” 

Eddie smiles wide. Richie feels Ben start to spread kisses along his back. 

“We‘ll use lots of lube,” Eddie says, leaning into Richie’s mouth, and Richie almost stops him, because Ben is _right there_ , but then he remembers it’s okay. They do this all the time. 

Besides, Ben has seen them kissing before. They live together. It’s not like they’re keeping tabs on each other, and Eddie doesn’t seem to be sneaking around about it: he proudly presented his hickey to Ben after they first made out in the kitchen. Ben is a supportive fellow, and nothing about has ever seemed to bother him. But sometimes Richie wonders why he doesn’t ask. 

He also wonders if Ben has ever wanted to kiss him. Separate from all this, like Eddie. 

Kissing Ben is nice, he thinks, head now bowed back to get at Ben’s bottom lip, to keep up with where he’s thrashing his tongue inside. He wouldn’t mind if Ben wanted to do it, just them. So why don’t they?

What makes Eddie special? 

Then Eddie slides down Richie’s body to tug off his pants, fitting his mouth around the head of Richie’s cock. It’s a wet heat - a familiar, enthralling sensation. Eddie always starts slow, but today he’s tending more and more unhinged, licking sloppily over the sides, slurping out the side of his mouth. Ben groans in his ear and humps at Richie’s back. Richie feels the slide of a hard dick against the crease of his ass and promises himself to stop thinking so goddamn much. 

“Eddie, wait,” he says, dragging fingers through Eddie’s hair where he’s bobbing up and down. Eddie pops off with wet lips and blown eyes and Richie leans down to kiss him before he thinks better of it.

“Someone has to- just the concept of this is making me a quick shot, guys,” Ben mumbles behind them as Richie ravages Eddie’s tongue, tasting himself, and he reaches a hand back to the general vicinity of Ben’s dick and finds it almost right away. Dick senses, he thinks. New skills to add to his resume. That thing desperately needs updating, anyway. 

Richie grips tight and pumps. It’s a weird angle, Richie’s wrist probably won’t thank him tomorrow, but they make it work: Ben’s dick thrusting through Richie’s tight fist, Eddie’s dick rubbing off against Richie’s happy trail, Richie’s dick happily spit-slick and bouncing between them. 

And, of course, Eddie’s tongue fucking into Richie’s mouth, both of them groaning, all _three_ of them groaning, whipping ridiculous noises through the apartment. Their hips are all bouncing back and forth. Richie brings his free hand up to hold at the side of Eddie’s face.

“I wanna- wait,” he says again, and this time he’s determined to follow through, because it’s something he’s always wanted to do, and apparently these two were having _ideas_ without him, so Richie’s decided it’s his turn to live his dreams. 

“Wha?” Eddie mumbles as he pulls away, so fucking cute and out of it that Richie moves forward to kiss him again. It lands on Eddie’s nose instead, and it’s so unavoidably tender that Richie almost panics. Eddie blinks at him, throat working. 

“Sorry- I didn’t-”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie says, then opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something else, but it closes just as quick. His hand’s curved around to hold at Richie’s neck, so he pulls until their foreheads meet. Richie’s heart aches, he wants to keep kissing, mouthing into Eddie until they fall into bed, but Ben’s dick is hard and insistent, wet and leaking into the hair on Richie’s thighs. 

And Richie now has _plans_. 

It takes everything he has to move away from Eddie. He tries to shoot him a contrite look, but there’s so much happening he’s not sure it comes off as anything but hopelessly turned on. He turns around to face Ben.

“Sit down, Benjamin.” Richie leads Ben to the bed. Eddie crawls back to give them some space, settling down on his haunches, like he’s waiting for instruction. Back to a follower so quickly, what a delicious piece of work. 

Once Ben is down, Richie kneels, then reaches for Eddie’s hand. 

Just like the first time. Fuck. 

“Eddie, c’mere,” he says, lifting up to slot their mouths together, right over where Ben’s dick is curved up against his stomach. Richie feels it poke at his chin. Ben starts jerking himself off as they kiss, loud and wet, and he almost gets lost in it. Eddie pushes him away before he has a chance. 

He swallows Ben’s cock right down to the root. Right in front of Richie’s face. 

Richie almost comes at the sight. Eddie’s lips stretched out, humming in his chest, Ben’s hand finding the back of his neck to help guide him along, hips twitching to stop from thrusting into his throat. 

“Fuck,” Richie whispers, mesmerized. 

Ben’s breathing heavily through his nose. When Richie finds his eyes, he leans up to give Ben’s mouth some attention, too. 

Sparks fly up Richie’s spine at the sounds, at the _feel_ of all of it. His dick is wild and untended in the midst of the kiss, hitting Eddie’s cheek where he’s working Ben over, and Richie barely hears a gasp before there’s warm suction over him, too. He breaks away with a groan to see Eddie’s eyes flutter back into his head, Richie’s dick tucked in his mouth. 

“Eds, _yeah_.” He strokes through Eddie’s hair again, egging him on, but he pulls up to grab Richie’s hand from the top of his head and put it over his and Ben’s cocks. “Oh fuck, you little genius.”

“That feel good?” Eddie asks on a heavy breath. His eyes are trained on where Richie’s jerking Ben off, and himself, too, both of them squeezed into his big palm. 

“It’s so good,” Ben answers. Richie nods, throwing his head back. 

“S’gonna be like that inside me,” Eddie says hungrily, and Richie’s hips kick up in response. 

“Holy fuck, Eddie, what the _fuck_.” 

“I wanna-”

Eddie breathes. Huffs. Watches Richie fuck two cocks through his fist. Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.

“What is it, baby?” Ben asks. Eddie and Richie both groan. 

They are both so fucking _hot_.

“Just-” 

Eddie bends to tongue over where the heads of their cocks are pushed together, red and tight and leaking onto Richie’s hand. 

“Eddie- _Eddie_ , do that again,” Richie tells him. There’s a rubber band coiling in the base of his cock, swelling his abdomen like a dirty need. He thrusts up into his own grip, against Ben’s cock, and now, into Eddie’s mouth. But Eddie doesn’t just leave it a double blowjob, oh no. He fucking _looks up_ at Richie, he fucking _makes eye contact_ and _holds_ it until Richie can almost feel his brain leaking out of his ears. 

And he’s not even fucking done. Eddie stays there, hovers over where Richie’s hand is still working, gasping, spit running down over his lips, over their dicks, over where Richie is gentling circles into the skin of Ben’s thigh to keep him calm. It’s not working. For either of them. Especially once Eddie finally manages to fit both of them in his mouth. 

Richie shifts his hand down to accommodate, then lifts back up to meet Eddie’s lips in the middle, but he only manages twice or three times before Eddie is coughing, sitting back on the mattress. 

“Fuck, I’m-” Eddie says, catching his breath, swallowing over what must be an aching throat from taking them both too far. Richie’s hand slows. Ben reaches up to run fingers over Eddie’s collarbone, soothing. Richie wants to cry. 

“You did so good, Eddie,” Ben tells him. Richie sees the wide wonder in Eddie’s eyes, wet around the rims from the gag. “You wanna prep yourself now? I’m not sure I can last much longer with you looking like this.” 

Ben gestures a hand around the whole of Eddie. Richie doesn’t need to ask what he means. 

Eddie’s flushed and panting, black lines of his hair stuck up, unruly as the bush nestling his gorgeous cock. Ben’s just about as pretty a picture, chest and belly rolled up together where he’s straining into Richie’s hand, pink lips bitten from watching the ministrations. Richie’s mouth waters. He wonders what he looks like. 

He wonders if either of them feel the way he does when he looks at them. 

“Yeah, let’s. Richie, why don’t you get on your back and Ben can finger me?” 

Right. They’ve barely even _started_. 

Once Eddie’s sitting on his dick, things get significantly worse. And that’s to say, they get spectacularly, life-changingly _amazing_. 

“Oh _god_ , Richie,” Eddie moans, fisting hands into his hair, stretching his torso like a Greek god. If Richie were an art major, if he spun pottery or some shit, maybe he’d be able to churn out an accurate depiction of the sheer beauty of Eddie Kaspbrak waiting to get double-fucked. Sitting on top of Richie, cock hard and slipping through his own hand as Ben comes up behind him, grinding his hips to keep Richie in place while he waits. But Richie has no artistic talent. All he has is his whittling memory, currently being blown apart by the stunning hold Eddie’s asshole has on his aching cock. 

So he tries to sear the image in there, stuff it into the corners of his brain. Just for him. 

After it settles, he switches gears. Tries to shut all this down. It’s sex. It’s work. It’s money. 

“Yeah, you just love a fuckin’ dick in you,” he grits out.

Eddie’s eyes pop open to watch him, pressing a hand into the middle of Richie’s chest to hold himself there. He grinds his hips again with a smug smile. Richie starts to feel better. The crushing doom blooming in his chest lessens. He can do this. 

Then he feels something pushing at where he and Eddie are connected, and it hits him: it’s Ben’s cock. 

They worked up with fingers, pressing in one at a time, and that was… it was _something_. Heat and pressure and a gentle _squeeze_ that would have been overwhelming were it not Ben and Eddie. His- anyway. It’s good. It’s a low simmer.

Another dick is a whole new ballgame, but one where someone lit the stadium on fire.

It’s a slow, torturous game of angles and fingers holding in the right positions to make sure nothing slips out. 

Eddie throws himself down across Richie’s chest while it happens, clutching hard and pulling in short, stuttered breaths against where their lips are floating together. Richie holds him around the neck. Holds him there. He wants him there. Wants him to feel so good. 

It feel less like fucking two people at once and more like being compacted into a vice where someone else happens to be wiggling around. Except that person has perhaps the most perfect dick ever sculpted by the almighty himself. Richie doesn’t end up having to do much but brace himself - Ben is pushing in nicely at the same time Eddie is rocking back into it, so Richie’s dick is more like collateral damage in their own fucking. That, and Richie gets to watch Eddie fall apart above him. 

Eddie was right, he’s never ridden Richie before. And now Richie suspects that his subconscious was watching out for him all along, because this is an altering experience. Eddie is fucking _gorgeous_ , sweating and panting and moaning into Richie’s chest, into the crook of his armpit, licking over his chest hair, biting at his nipple. But Richie gets him back when they lift up, giving Eddie a better angle to get deeper, chomping lightly at the pink, pert nipple on Eddie’s chest. Eddie gasps, delighted, then pulls Richie into a kiss, and things go a bit hazy for awhile. 

“Eddie, _Eddie_ , you good?” Ben moans from where he’s standing at the edge of the bed, thrusting in a steady circle that Richie can _feel_. 

“I’m good- _fuck_ \- god, I’m so good, you both feel so _good_ ,” Eddie says right back, locking onto Richie’s eyes as Ben speeds up. Richie wants to swallow him whole. Tear himself open and accept Eddie’s pleading, big brown eyes straight into his heart. 

“Eddie,” Richie breathes instead.

Eddie just nods. Richie leans mouth over his jaw, his neck, his cheek. 

“Ben, harder, can you-”

“Yeah, fuck, is it too much?” Ben asks. Eddie hiccups a laugh, fingers clenched around a tuft of Richie’s chest hair.

“ _No,_ ” Eddie tells him, twisting away from where Richie is pinning him in place, long fingers pressed into his ribs, “ and I know you’re holding back, you moron, I can tell.” He and Ben share a look, a fucked out meeting of smiles, and Richie’s heart thumps harder in his chest. His hips piston up for the first time. 

“ _Rich_ ,” Ben breathes. Richie sees his hand skate the sweaty planes of Eddie’s back, reaching up to his shoulder to hold on. 

“You gonna come first, Ben?” 

“No way,” Eddie laughs, browning skin glistening from the peeks of sun they’ve been getting this spring, cock loose and rubbing a wet line onto Richie’s stomach, “He’s gotta last long enough to fuck the shit outta me, right?” 

“Oh fuck, Eds, you know I will,” Ben says, palming over both of his hips to set to it.

Eddie shines down at Richie while Ben groans low in his chest, and _fuck_ , Richie loves him. 

Oh. Oh _fuck_. 

Richie tries to push it away. Tries so fucking hard. He’s been trying so fucking _hard_. But Eddie’s bouncing on his cock. Throwing himself back onto Ben’s, too, just to drive them both mad. He’s running hands over Richie’s chest, leaning down to kiss him, reaching back to caress Ben’s thighs. He’s smiling and laughing and goading them both on with dirty words. He’s opening up and trusting them. He’s been doing it for months, maybe _years_ , being honest and vulnerable and so fucking cute that Richie’s… He’s… oh _god_. 

Richie loves him. 

Richie knows logically that Eddie can’t hear his desperate, doped up thoughts, but when Eddie starts groaning in earnest, whispering praise into Richie’s mouth as Ben makes good on his promise, Richie wonders. He really, really wonders. 

“Rich, oh, oh god, oh god, you both feel so-”

“Eddie,” Richie says, and he means it as a plea. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh my god, I feel so full.” 

“Gonna come in you, Eddie,” Ben says, and Eddie punches out a noise, some sort of inhuman whine, something that sets Richie’s whole body ablaze. His arms are already wrapped around Eddie’s hips, tangled up with Ben’s so they can hold each other, too, but he pulls, pulls until Eddie is back to trying to kiss him. 

“I want it,” Eddie whispers into his mouth.

Richie groans. “You want his come?” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Eddie says, like he doesn’t know he’s talking at all. 

Richie’s almost completely pinned to the bed with the force of their fucking, squeezing him tighter inside Eddie’s hole, but he feels _everything_. Every twitch of Ben’s cock, every time Eddie clenches around both of them, every time Richie starts to slip out and Eddie reaches back to finger him deeper to stay. 

“I wanna come in you, Eds,” Richie says. Eddie’s mouth pinches hard. He forces out little pained puffs of air against Richie’s chin. 

“I want you to,” he gasps. There’s a twinge between his eyes, flinching under Richie’s gaze. 

Nothing has ever felt this good. Richie curls his hands hard around the curve of Eddie’s ass to spread his cheeks, and Ben pulls out half an inch just to _grind_ back in.

Fuck, he wants to come so bad. He wants to fuck Eddie into _tomorrow_. And Ben, while he’s at it. He wants to forget about being in fucking love or whatever the fuck that means for the three of them, he just wants to get lost in the pounding, blissful feeling of all three of them together right now. 

Then Ben whines a quiet, “ _yeah_ ,” and Richie can tell he’s close. 

“Oh _shit_ ,” Eddie says, fucking his tongue back against Richie’s, and then Richie feels _pulsing_. 

“ _Agghh fuck, oh_.”

“Yeah, gimme it,” Eddie grunts. He slides a hand through the sweaty strands of hair falling in his face, and it’s almost ethereal, god, Richie loves him _so much_ and-

“Eddie, Eddie, Eds, baby, I’m coming in you.” 

“ _Ben_ ,” Eddie sighs against his lips, and Richie wants to _scream_. 

Loud squelching starts to accompany every move of Ben’s cock inside, against Richie’s, his hips humping hard into Eddie’s from behind. Richie’s thrown with the increasingly desperate movements but he holds on, keeps Eddie upright while Ben finishes releasing inside. 

“Rich, _guys_ , I can’t-”

“You can pull out, Ben, it’s okay,” Eddie tells him, so sweet and soft, but before Richie can pull at him for more kissing, he adds, “Richie can finish up, right?” 

Richie _breaks_. He doesn’t come - he can’t possibly come until he’s given Eddie everything he wants, and that’s all his brain can comprehend, the feral, overwhelming _need_ to make Eddie feel as good as he possibly can. As good as he’s _ever_ felt. God, Eddie’s just so fucking good that Richie can barely stand it. 

He grips tighter around Eddie’s middle, trying his best not to dislodge, and flips them until Eddie is on his back. He shifts his feet on the ground to get better leverage, eyes on where he and Eddie are connected, where Ben’s come is dripping lightly around Richie’s hard cock still inside. He clenches his eyes shut before looking up to Eddie. 

Eddie’s mouth is dropped open, his arms flung around the back of Richie’s neck during the change of positions, and when Richie presses in completely, he groans, long and loud. 

“I can feel, oh, _Richie_ , Richie, I can feel Ben’s come,” he says as Richie fucks him up the length of the bed, a spinning cycle of lust, thrusting like his life depends on it. Ben’s cooling down beside them, adjusting the camera to get the angle right while Richie focuses on pounding Eddie into the mattress. 

“Eddie,” Ben sighs. Richie buries his face in Eddie’s chest, stopped up with emotions, pooling in the base of his spine, in the center of his gut. Eddie keeps grunting above him. When Richie opens his eyes, he’s met with Eddie’s leaking cock between them. He throws himself up to paw at it, wanting Eddie to feel so _good_. 

“Fuck, fuck, Ben, it’s so _wet_ ,” Eddie says, and Richie snaps with a whine, hips pistoning, fucking all of Ben’s come back into Eddie’s desperate hole, shaking both their bodies in a solid, smooth line until Eddie’s breathing starts to pick up in earnest. 

“You two look so fucking good,” Ben says from somewhere. 

Richie can’t really hear anything through the puffing fog in his brain, and he’s reminded of something from their bullshit psychology class sophomore year. Both Eddie and Ben had to skip for various reasons, Richie barely remembers, and that’s weird in hindsight, that he didn’t know every detail of their lives like he does now. But they were gone, leaving Richie to fend for himself, so he did the unthinkable and actually paid attention. 

It all comes down to extreme levels of adrenaline in the body. A rush of the senses that leads to them bleeding out instead. Zooming in your vision so intensely that you literally _cannot_ experience everything around you. Richie’s not sure it’s ever a positive thing, except maybe in those situations where a mother is lifting a car to save her child, or whatever. Most of the examples from class were about survival or anger or violence. 

Richie’s experienced hard, edged emotions during sex - fucking into another body will do that, make you lose some semblance of control. But right now, the blurring of his senses stinging at the tips of his fingers and toes makes him want to cry. The tearing at his heart settles so deeply akin to violence in its intensity, but Richie knows it’s love. He’s never known anything like it - looking into Eddie’s eyes, pressing into his body, bringing him closer and closer to the brink. It’s not adrenaline, Richie thinks. It’s just Eddie. 

“Richie,” Eddie breathes again, so Richie finds him, holds him and finds his lips because he knows that’s what Eddie wants, he _hopes_ that’s what Eddie wants, because he wants it too, he wants him so badly it hurts, and he’s had him almost every way is possible, he’s ripping open from need and there’s nowhere to put it but deep into the rock of their hips. 

“Come for me,” Richie says, muffled through the rushing in his ears, “Eds, please.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, leaning up to kiss him. His hand lands flat between them, pushing gently at Richie’s chest, right over his heart. It finally breaks him. It breaks Eddie, too. 

Eddie’s almost humping him from underneath, dragging their pelvises together as they both fall apart, moaning loud into their wet, messy kiss, and Richie enacts all the control he has left to keep from crying. They’re coming _together_ , and Richie _loves_ him and it’s far too much. Ben is watching and touching himself and Eddie is jerking and writhing and Richie is consumed with a panicked sense of pride and _awareness_ that knocks him sideways. 

Eddie seems oblivious, gasping and smiling as soon as they’re coming down. His face is red and shining, he’s always fucking _shining_ at Richie, but then he holds a hand on each of Richie’s cheeks and just… looks. He pecks at Richie’s lips, humming happy and sated, then leans back on the bed to cradle Richie to his chest. 

All Richie can think, pinned against Eddie on the bed, a gentle hand stroking through his sweat-matted hair, is _I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much and I’m terrified_. 

As soon as he can make a break for it, Richie escapes from his own room and locks himself in the bathroom. 

He knows they have plans with Bev tonight, and Eddie was quick to remind him as soon as he wiped the come off his dick, but he also needs _help_. Some sort of unbiased opinion on what the hell is going on in his brain. 

He dials Stan’s number and a bubbling urge to laugh strikes him at the frequency of panicked-bathroom calls Stan has received since Richie met Eddie. But that’s what friends are for, right?

As soon as Stan picks up, Richie blurts it. 

“I’m having boy problems.” He expects a bellow of laughter, painful and sharp in his ear. 

Instead-

“You know I’m here, Richie. You wanna talk about it?” 

Richie feels his whole body crumple from relief. The tears sting at his eyes. 

“Fuck, I- I don’t even know. Are you sure?” 

This isn’t what Richie is supposed to be _for_. He’s the funny one: if he makes people awkward or sad, it’s because he’s a fuck up, or he’s told a nasty joke, or he’s just being far too much. This is another level of too much. And it’s too much even for him. Not that the rest isn’t. But he’s gotten used to it. This is a whole new territory: feelings. 

“Of course I’m sure, man, you were there for the whole… I mean,” Stan hesitates. Richie winces. “You were there when it mattered with Patty, Rich. In the beginning, at least.” 

Richie sighs. Can a chest crack open on its own? Without one of those device things that holds your rib cage and just slowly spreads you? Richie imagines it and almost pukes. His fingers dance over his thighs. 

“I’m- I know I wasn’t great about-”

“Hey,” Stan cuts him off, and Richie’s shoulders slump, “we can talk about this next time we see each other in person, yeah? Let’s focus on your thing.” 

Richie nods to himself. “Yeah, yeah.”

“So what’s going on?” 

So Richie spills. Well, he half-spills. He’s not willing to tell Stan the whole story - at least not today. It's not like he doesn’t trust Stan, it’s just. It’s a lot. Richie’s been walking on thin ice for months, and less than ten minutes ago he was plunged into the freezing cold. 

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Stan says, and Richie’s ears start pounding a dark melody in his ears, “maybe even some serious feelings.” 

“And what. I mean, what about the other guy? I really like him, too, I mean. He’s been a really good friend to me.”

Stan pauses. Richie appreciates the sincerity he’s displaying. If only he knew. 

“Well, I guess it’s complicated. He sounds important to you, too.”

“Yeah,” Richie sighs. Ben’s one of the best friends he’s ever had. But it’s always been different with Eddie. And isn’t that a fucking joke? It’s been like this from the _beginning_. Since Eddie fucking smiled at him. 

“Do you think you feel the same way about both of them?” Stan asks. 

Richie holds his breath. Lets it out slowly.

“No, but I- I love them both,” he says, he admits, he- “holy fucking shit, I love them both.” 

“Yeah?” 

Richie drags air through his lungs. He’s suddenly convinced if he didn’t focus on it it wouldn’t happen. 

“I think so. I think it’s different with- I think it’s different with Eddie, though. I just don’t think he feels the same way.” 

“Have you asked him?” 

A bolt of fear surges through him. His _chest_ hurts. 

“No, we haven’t really, uh. Talked. Much.” Richie winces. Stan isn’t going to like _that_. 

“Richie-”

“I know, I know, it sounded dumb as shit just coming out of my mouth, I heard it too, I know.” 

Stan heaves a sigh Richie assumes is just for show. The dramatic bastard. Richie misses him with a start. He hears a knock on the front door. 

“Sounds like you kinda know what you wanna do. Just maybe fucking… do it?” 

Richie laughs. “I gotta go, I’m-” he points toward the door, but he hasn’t really explained about Bev, so he shakes it off for next time. “I have to go, Stan. Sorry for dive bombing your Friday night with my dramatic gay ass.” 

“Are you kidding? This is like my own personal episode of Maury. Except with my best friend instead of the unruly audience of morons,” Stan says, and Richie feels the sob building up in his throat. Stan clears his. They’re not usually this genuine. Love makes them both fools. 

_Fuck_. 

“Okay, uh, well. Thanks, man. I’ll- uh. I’ll let you know how it goes.” 

“Yeah, do that, please, I’m on the edge of my seat over here.”

“Fuck you,” Richie says, because he wants to say the other thing. There’s far too much of that floating around tonight. 

“Yeah, you too, man.” 

Richie hangs up and stares at himself in the mirror for a good minute before heading out into the living room. 

He can do this, right? It’s just feelings. It’s just talking. They’ve been doing plenty of that lately. And it’s not like Eddie is some master of his own emotions. He cramps up just as much when the Big Honesty guns come out. 

Richie turns the corner to the sound of Bev and Eddie laughing, and almost joins in, just for the camaraderie. Then he sees Eddie. 

He’s all loose limbs and beautiful lines, dimples in full force, hair mussed and effortless, tucked into his usual chair. Laughing at something Bev said, no doubt. When he sees Richie his face falls into something gentler, something just as easy but nevertheless different, and it’s what Richie keeps seeing. It scares the shit out of him. 

He runs to the kitchen and slams a shot of whatever liquor is closest. 

It’s whiskey. 

Richie’s dad brought them a bottle a few months in, something mildly fancy and mostly practical, and they’d kept it on the top of the fridge for emergencies just like tonight. Of course, they didn’t intend it for a freak out of this particular magnitude, but as Richie’s pouring his fourth shot of the night, he’s not sure anyone could have prepared him for this. 

“Richie, are you coming back in here, or are you getting sloshed in the kitchen by yourself?” Bev calls from her seat on the couch. Richie is sick of it.

He’s sick of that fucking couch. 

Fuck, he always forgets whiskey makes him a little mean. He considers hiding in his room for the rest of the night. Maybe jerking off to one of their videos. Maybe jerking off to the video they just made. Ben posted it almost immediately. Richie shivers at the idea of some stranger jerking it to a video of him realizing he’s in love. Fuck. 

“Yeah, get back in here, big guy,” Eddie says, light and airy. Bev giggles. Richie slams a hand against the counter. 

“Gimme a fucking second.”

There’s a silence. Richie can’t do anything but fume. 

“Rich? You okay in there?” Ben calls. Richie bites at his lip.

“I’m fine, just- I’ll be there in a second,” he grits out. He thinks of Eddie. Laughing. 

Eddie has to fucking _know_. He can’t be sitting out there oblivious after they fucked their brains out. After he had both Richie and Ben inside of him, after they both _came_ in him. It’s- they’ve never done that before. And he must have seen. He must have seen the look in Richie’s eyes. Other people will see- fuck. _Fuck_. Other people will see. 

Does Ben know? He’s seen them kiss. He’s seen them- he’s seen it all. But he has Beverly. He has _Beverly_. And fuck, Richie is a fucking dick. He’s a complete asshole. He’s not even sure he has feelings for Ben, but what if Ben hasn’t told her? What if they’re fucking around behind her back, and then getting together for drinks and appetizers like everything is fine? 

Everything swirls. Settles. Burns in his gut. He smells Eddie on him. He smells and sees and feels Eddie all over. 

Then Eddie is behind him.

“Richie?”

Richie sighs. Clenches fingers around the shot glass he’s still holding. 

“Richie, are you okay?” 

“Stop _asking_ me that,” he says. He doesn’t turn around. He can’t look Eddie in the eye right now. He’s been so close to crying all night long, he can’t- he just fucking _can’t_. 

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, you never do, do you?” Richie feels it boiling, pictures one of those old glass thermometers hitting its peak, red liquid flowing from the top, unmanaged, untenable. Eddie stutters. 

“What- Richie, what the fuck are you talking about?” He’s moved closer now, his voice a harsh whisper, and that somehow makes Richie madder.

“Why are you whispering, dude?” Richie asks, hysterical, finally whipping around to see the hurt look on Eddie’s face, the pink cheeks and pinched mouth he already knew would be there.

“I’m not-”

“You fucking _are_. You’re fucking whispering.”

Ben comes around the half-wall that separates the kitchen from the living room, all soft expressions and concern. Richie’s about to explode from pure rage. 

“Guys, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Ben, why don’t you tell us? Why don’t you tell _Beverly_?” 

Ben’s eyes go wide. “Richie, she-”

“Does she know? Does anyone else know we do this? Probably not, right? I’m just everyone’s dirty little secret, it’s no worries, it’s not like I have feelings, too.”

Eddie reaches a hand out toward him. “ _Richie_ , what happened? Why are you-”

Richie steps back, bumping into the counter. He needs more _space_. He needs to get the fuck away. He glances out toward the hall, toward his bedroom, toward the front door, but he keeps talking. He can’t even escape himself, and that’s what he really wants. It’s what everyone wants. 

“What’re you gonna do, Eds, huh? Kiss me? Pull me into the hall and kiss it all away so we don’t have to talk?” 

Both Ben and Eddie stop dead in their tracks. Eddie’s face falls, then resets hard and cold. 

“That is so fucking unfair,” he says, arms crossing over his chest, foot tapping like it always does when he’s frustrated or angry or- fuck, and Richie _hates_ that he knows that, hates that he knows Eddie’s quirks and his body language and what he looks like when he wakes up but that he can’t have- he can’t have anything he wants. Not how he wants it. 

It’s all fucking falling apart, and he’s not sure if he wants to keep it together or let it all crash down around him. 

“Is it? It’s unfair that you two are off living your fucking lives, getting better and actually _doing_ shit and I’m just sitting here, pathetic and falling in l-”

He almost screams. Throws his hands in the air. Turns around. Considers taking another shot. 

Ben stomps over and snatches the rest of the whiskey from him, shoving it back on top of the fridge, as if Richie isn’t taller than him. But then Ben shoves him too, once, right in the middle of the chest.

“Maybe you should go to bed, Rich.”

“Ben,” Richie says, his heart slamming through the whiplash, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Richie, please, just come sit and talk with us,” Eddie says from behind him. Richie leans all his weight onto his hands, presses into the counter, stares into the sink. He wants to jump down the drain. Ride the drain water and land in the sewers to live with the rats and the waste until he dissolves. 

“I’m going to bed,” he says, instead. 

He pretends he doesn’t hear crying once he finally makes it there. 

The next time he’s at least half-conscious, there’s a warm hand cupping over his shoulder. 

“Richie,” Ben says quietly, standing over him in bed. Richie sits up, blinking through the darkness to no avail. 

“What time issit?” 

“Almost noon.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing a hand to his forehead and feeling the heat. His mouth is dry, god, he could use some-

“I brought you some water and aspirin,” Ben tells him, and Richie squints to see the shape of a glass on his table. He grabs it and chugs some before looking up. 

There’s unfamiliar bags under Ben’s eyes and a haggard sheen over him. He looks tired. Stressed. Almost like one of his friends screamed at him and then confessed his unspecified love and then left to let them all puzzle it out. 

Richie wants to burrow back under the covers and never return. But Ben smiles. 

“Even though you definitely don’t deserve it.” 

“Fuck, Ben.” 

“Listen,” Ben interrupts, taking a seat on the bed. It’s big enough that they’re barely touching. Richie wonders if they’ll ever touch again after the shit he said. “I think we should stop doing the cam thing.” 

Richie probably should have expected it. 

“Oh.”

Ben shifts closer. Just a little. Richie wants to touch him. 

“I’m not doing this to hurt you.” 

Richie scoffs. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” 

“Richie,” Ben says, slow and simple. Richie falls back onto his pillow. 

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, man.” 

Ben takes a beat. Richie wipes at the sore, swollen rims of his eyes. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, reaching to pat a hand over Richie’s foot, “but I think you should talk to Eddie.” 

Richie groans. “Why? _Why_? So I can make a fool of myself? I don’t even fucking know what I want, man, I can’t- I don’t know how to do this.” 

“You’re in love with him, Rich,” Ben says. Richie feels the tear track down his cheek and holds in the sob. 

“I don’t know if I-”

“You think I couldn’t see that?” Ben says softly. Richie watches him, but his eyes are stuck on the carpet. Pretending to inspect the tacky colors. 

“Just talk to him,” he finally says. “Okay?” 

Richie hesitates. He wants to say no. Go back to sleep. Maybe get drunk again. Ignore that this is happening, like he’s used to. But Ben is asking him, and Richie knows he loves him, too. It’s something. It’s just not the same.

He nods. 

Ben pats his foot once more and leaves. 

As soon as Ben is out for the day, Richie does what he does best: mope. Well, first he sleeps. That’s also a very important part of his hungover-lovesick routine. And, of course, nursing a beer and crying on the couch. The three pillars of a truly great Saturday. 

Eddie doesn’t show up til late. Richie’s been worried most of the day, but only because he knows Eddie’s Saturday schedule is completely clear. Sometimes he goes to a farmer’s market or some exercise class with a bunch of middle-aged ladies in spandex, but mostly he hangs out with Richie. Richie knows he’s avoiding him. And he knows he deserves it. 

But when Eddie walks in the door, Richie almost throws his whole plan out the window. Fuck the love confession, the apology, all the whispered words and desperate pleas he’s been workshopping all day. He’s going to high-tail it out of here and into the wilderness to never be heard from again. 

Slightly-Well Known Cam Boy Richie Tozier Abandons His Post Due to the Humiliation of Being Known: More at Five.

“Eddie,” he says, instead. He’s never known when to shut up, and in a pinch, maybe just opening his mouth and seeing what happens will get him to his end result. Even if he has no idea what that is. 

Eddie’s staring at the ground, holding something in his hand. 

It reminds Richie of Ben. He wants to cry again. He’s really fucked this up. The least he can do is be honest. Eddie kinda beats him to it. Just a little.

“Look, I’m really fucking pissed,” he says, fingers shaking over what Richie now sees is a piece of paper, “but my therapist got me in for an emergency appointment and they recommended I make this stupid- it’s a- anyway, I’m gonna fucking read it to you so shut up.” 

Eddie moves so fast Richie almost jumps, but then he sees he’s heading _toward_ him, so he brings his feet out from under him and makes room for Eddie on the couch. Miraculously, Eddie actually sits next to him. He puts a foot of space between them and unfolds the paper onto his lap. Looks up at Richie.

Richie loves him. It floods him like the truth. 

“I’m not good at this,” Eddie starts, and Richie honks out a laugh. Eddie glares.

“I’m sorry, I’m. Keep going.” 

Eddie stares down at the paper, then back up at him. For a moment, Richie is worried he’ll leave and forget the whole thing. Richie’s never wanted to see what’s on a piece of paper more in his life. 

“I’m not good at this, but I think there’s been some sort of miscommunication. In retrospect, I realize I’m probably to blame here,” Eddie starts, reading mechanically off the piece of paper. 

Richie’s practically star-struck, mind running with thoughts of Eddie _discussing_ him with his therapist, but then Eddie is groaning in frustration and chucking the paper to the ground. Richie almost reaches down to pick it up, but then Eddie scoots closer to him on the couch. Their knees touch. 

“Fuck this, I don’t have the self-control to fucking read that thing, I’ve been in therapy for like, a month.” 

Richie holds his breath again. “Okay…”

“What you said last night was shitty.” 

“Yeah, Eds, I-”

“No, shut the fuck up, that rule is still fair game,” Eddie says, holding a single finger up between them. Richie shoves his hands under his legs. 

“Okay.” 

Eddie makes him wait. It draws out over long, extended minutes, what feels like hours to someone like Richie, who thrives on filling silences. But Eddie asked him to wait, and he feels like he could do it. Like maybe he could wait if he knew Eddie would be meeting him at the end. 

But then, he’s so fucking sick of the wait. 

“I love you,” Richie says. 

Eddie makes that inhuman noise again, the one that punched all the senses out of Richie before, above him, all over him, and this time it threatens to do the same thing. Then Eddie’s lip wobbles.

“I- Richie-”

“No, I owe you this for last night, Eds, I’m so fucking sorry and I love you. You’re the one I was- I was talking about you. And last night I had you, it really felt like you _knew_ , like you saw it, and I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle you not feeling the same way, or fucking this up with Ben, and I should have just _asked_ you but I fuck everything up,” he sighs, heart pounding painfully in his chest, “I always fuck everything up, Eddie.” 

Eddie closes the space between them at last. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Rich,” he says, hand grabbing around Richie’s knee.

“I made you mad.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole,” Eddie says, and Richie coughs out a pathetic laugh. Eddie squeezes his hand. “That doesn’t mean you, like, _ruined_ it.” 

“Yeah?” 

Richie knows he’s being ten kinds of fucked up right now, needy and desperate for attention or love, or maybe just forgiveness. But then Eddie holding him tightly with blown, wide eyes and throwing a leg over his lap on the couch until he’s seated right in the middle. Richie stops breathing. Eddie’s going to fucking kill him. Or maybe whatever the opposite of that is. 

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers, hands clutching at either side of Richie’s face, shaking him lightly, like he can force the words to sink in that way, “I really fucking love you. I can’t believe you didn’t figure that out earlier, but I do, Richie, and I should have fucking _said_ it.” 

Richie wants to ask when or how or _why_ but Eddie’s mouth is already on his, his hips shifting in Richie’s lap, and Richie’s helpless to do anything but wrap his arms around Eddie’s middle and hold on. 

Eddie pulls away quick to rasp out, “Is this okay, I didn’t really-”

“It’s _so_ fucking okay, it’s always been okay, please keep kissing me,” Richie pants, and Eddie does, he does and he does and he does and Richie never wants this to end, and maybe it won’t, maybe it fucking won’t because maybe he finally managed not to ruin something after all. 

“Rich,” Eddie breathes into his mouth, lips wetting at his lips, “Richie, you fucking idiot.”

“I’m so fucking stupid, please, kiss me,” Richie says back.

“I always did,” Eddie kisses into him, bends down to nip at his neck like he always does, always in the same spot, and Richie _groans_. 

“You di- you what?” 

“Loved you,” Eddie says again, and Richie jolts underneath him. He feels it in the backs of his knees, electrifying with Eddie all over him. They’ve made out on this couch hundreds of times, but now he knows Eddie loves him, and Eddie knows he loves him back, and Richie doesn’t feel like he’s cooped up in his own head. At least, not as _much_. 

Because he still doesn’t know how this is all going to end. He doesn’t know how Eddie feels about Ben, about what they’ve been doing, about living with both of them anymore. 

As soon as the line of Eddie’s hard cock nudges against his belly, Richie kind of forgets there’s anything left to settle. Luckily, Eddie wants to keep talking. And Richie, still new to Eddie’s dirty mouth flooding with words, is just along for the ride. 

“Thought about you so fucking much,” Eddie mouths into his neck. 

“Eddie-”

“Why the fuck do you think I kissed you so much?” Eddie asks, pulling away, and Richie wraps his arms tighter to keep him from getting off. Eddie just grinds down, and Richie sighs. He’s already fucking hard. 

“I don’t- I guess I just thought it was part of the whole- uh.” Richie waves his hand between them. “The whole _thing_ , I don’t know.” 

Eddie squints at him. “You thought I was rabidly making out with you on the regular, without cameras, without _Ben_ , because of the _show_?” 

“Well when you put it like that,” Richie says, and Eddie beams down at him, but he rolls his eyes, and fuck, Richie loves him. “I love you, I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, we established that.” Eddie kisses him again. Licks a stripe over his chin. “I’m sorry.” 

Richie feels filled up with something, torn between kicking his hips up against Eddie’s, since he’s torturing him with slow, languid circles and the shape of his long, perfect dick, or maybe asking Eddie to marry him right here. Fuck, he’s never even _wanted_ to get married before. 

But Eddie’s watching him, thumbing over his stubbly hangover jaw and pressing his knees together around Richie’s hips. Richie _has_ him. No matter what this means for them and Ben, if he has this, Richie thinks he might be alright. 

“What are you sorry for?” Richie asks, finally. Eddie licks his lips, squirming. Richie reaches forward to kiss him on the nose. On purpose this time. It wrinkles under Richie’s machinations. 

“For- for not clarifying,” Eddie says, looking down at where he’s fingering the fabric of Richie’s shirt. “When I kissed you. The first time. Or the second or, like, any other time.” 

“Oh,” Richie says, dumbly. Eddie’s getting worked up. 

“I wanted to- I fucking-”

“Eds,” Richie says, rubbing at his back, smoothing circles into his skin under his shirt. Eddie takes a breath. 

“I almost did it. When I told you about my mom.” 

Richie’s heart clutches. “Eddie-”

“You were so good. So _sweet_ and encouraging and my god, I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this,” Eddie says through a laugh, rubbing a hand over his eyes until Richie pulls it away. Changes gears. They can talk later.

“Did you ever want to, you know.” Richie lifts Eddie’s fingers up to his own mouth. Presses Eddie’s pointer into his mouth, licking across the pad of it gently. “Take it further?” 

Eddie visibly gulps. Richie sucks his finger in deeper. 

Richie and Eddie have enthusiastically, and very professionally, if Richie does say so himself, participated in lots of sex together. Spit-roasting, topping, bottoming, in between, handjobs, blowjobs, and that one special occasion last night, when Eddie took two dicks so impressively that Richie literally fell in love with him. 

But now, grinding and panting and humping through their pants like teenagers, whispering dirty nothings (everythings) and sappy sentiments, it all feels like the first time. 

“Fuck, _Richie_ ,” Eddie gasps into his mouth, legs wrapped around Richie from underneath, heels digging a painful spike at the small of Richie’s back. Richie loves it. He loves how Eddie is clinging to him like a flipped backpack - if Richie lifted off the couch right now he’d be carrying him, and maybe he should, take this to the bedroom like adults, but he can’t be bothered. Not with Eddie kissing him like the world is ending. 

“What do you want?” Richie gasps anyway, even though this is all he wants. 

“Keep going,” Eddie says, squeezing tighter and rocking harder. Richie laughs, fists a hand in Eddie’s hair. 

“You wanna come like this?” 

Eddie nods under Richie’s hold, head thumping against the armrest. “Yeah.” 

“Fuck baby, I want you so much.” Richie lifts up a little, then sets to humping Eddie harder, slotting the hard, aching line of his dick right against where Eddie’s hole is. Just like last night: over him, knocking into him, panting together. He knows what it’s like to be _inside_ him. He’ll give Eddie anything he wants. 

“I want you. _Richie_ , oh-”

“I promise I’ll fuck you later, Eds.”

Eddie groans, his neck a long, delicious line, and Richie bites right over his adam’s apple, just to get Eddie to twitch. 

“You better, _god_ , you feel so good inside me.” 

“Yeah? You like me fucking you?” Richie feels smug, hopped up on love and Eddie’s thick, hard cock rubbing off against his stomach, and even through his jeans, he knows it looks perfect. He can finally admit that to himself: Eddie’s dick is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

Eddie’s breathing goes labored. Richie kisses him deep. 

Eddie breaks off with a whine. “I love you fucking me.”

“I’m gonna fuck you into the bed tonight,” Richie tells him, falling back into it easy. He’s only thought about this every night for months. 

“Please,” Eddie says. Richie presses their foreheads together. 

“C’mon, I’m close.” 

“Fuck me with your cock,” Eddie says, choked, and Richie feels something snap in his stomach, and then he’s coming in his greasy hangover boxers. 

“ _Eddie_ , I’ll-”

“Rich, I’m there, go hard- go _hh_ \- go harder,” he’s saying as he’s thrusting up with abandon, bouncing them both off the couch with his hips. He reaches up to press their mouths together as they both dirty their pants, and Eddie nibbles mindlessly at his bottom lip as the waves of their bodies crest and calm. 

Richie’s lost in the way Eddie snakes a hand down between them to pet at his twitching cock through his pants, but one of them laughs, and then they’re both laughing, buried in each other, damp and a whole fucking mess, and he starts to lick lazy over Eddie’s lips, but just to keep the smile on his face. 

“Fuck,” Eddie spits.

“Yep.” Richie nuzzles at his nose. Holds most of his weight on where his elbows are pressed into the cushions so he doesn’t crush Eddie. 

“I can’t believe we came in our pants.”

“Yep,” Richie pops. 

“You wanna make good on that promise to pound me into the mattress?” 

Richie stares, startled in love.

“Fuckin’ _yep_.” 

It must be midnight by the time they come up for air. Richie doesn’t have his phone, so he can’t be sure. There’s also no clock in his room because he’s not eighty. So he just traces the smattering of light moles over Eddie’s chest and reminds himself that time is a concept, and also that tomorrow is Sunday. The only place they have to be is this bed. 

And maybe the couch again.

“You trying to get lucky again?” Eddie asks him after an extended bout of artsy silence. Richie is halfway through connecting the dots to make a wonky looking dog, but opts for leaning up to kiss the dumb smile off Eddie’s face instead. 

“You up for it?” 

Richie spreads long fingers toward Eddie’s happy trail, just in case. Eddie grunts into his mouth and pushes his hand away.

“Let’s- can we touch on something first?” He leans up. 

“You mean something other than your dick?” 

Richie waggles his eyebrows. Eddie pulls the pillow out from behind his head and shoves it into Richie’s face. 

Richie hears a sigh, then feels a hand scrub across the hair on his chest. Eddie loves his chest, apparently.

Eddie loves a _lot_ of things, as it turns out, and he also loves _telling_ Richie what he loves while Richie fucks him into the bed. Richie had pressed him tighter into the mattress with every single word, driving harder and faster into him until they both broke, but there had been something else he mentioned that really got them there. Richie assumes that’s what this is about. And he knew it would come up. 

“Is it about Ben?” Eddie bites his lip. Nods. Richie pokes at the hickey blooming on his hip bone. “Figured.”

Eddie exhales something between a cough and a laugh.

“Well, you _did_ ask if I quote, ‘wished his perfect dick was in my mouth to match the perfect one in my ass’ unquote.” Eddie’s eyes haze out toward the wall. “And then we both came, like, _really_ , uh. Hard.” 

“Okay, point taken,” Richie says, plucking at one of Eddie’s nipples. Eddie jumps, then attacks him.

Ten heaving minutes and a few position switches later, Richie’s hand is exactly where he’d like to it stay for, like, ever. 

“Can’t stop touching you,” he tells Eddie as he jerks slowly over his dick, pink and gorgeous, long and growing by the second, and all from kissing. Eddie’s so transparently buff but somehow still stringy, tight muscle clumped over thin limbs, wiggling around on the bed like a horny squid. God, Richie could eat him alive. 

“I can’t- I want to _talk_ ,” Eddie whines, but he’s pumping his hips up into Richie’s fist, sweeping fingers through Richie’s tangled mess of hair. 

“Then talk, babe.”

“Please,” Eddie shivers out. His hand clamps down on Richie’s forearm, so Richie throws a muzzle on the roaring lion of passion deep in his gut and pulls away. 

“Sorry, sorry, fuck, I-”

“No, it’s,” Eddie gasps, swallows, shoots air through his nose. Puts Richie’s hand back on his cock. “It’s okay. Just… slow? And listen?” 

Richie’s not sure he can do both, but he’s sure as fuck willing to try, especially with Eddie staring hungry and stunned down at him. He chooses the listening first, but gives Eddie a small squeeze just to tide him over. He gets a tiny moan for his effort. 

“I really want you,” Eddie breathes, flipping to stare down at Richie’s fingers wrapped around him, “I want to know what you want.” 

“Eds,” Richie laughs, practically high on it, “I think it’s pretty clear what I want right now.”

“No, I mean- _ugh_ , do you- are you okay with, _uh_ -”

Eddie starts thrashing a bit. Richie reels back, but keeps touching. 

“Maybe I should stop and we should-”

“ _No_ , fuck, keep going,” Eddie grunts again, looking more frustrated than sexed up, “I just- want to be honest.” 

Eddie locks Richie with a glare. 

“You can be honest, Eddie,” Richie says. He’s certainly not going to say it first, if it’s not what Eddie wants. But if it is-

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Eddie says, simply. His cock dribbles some pre-come onto Richie’s knuckles. Richie licks his lips and tries not to press where he’s quickly growing hard against Eddie’s bare leg.

“I want that, too.” God, does he ever. He’s never had a fucking boyfriend. He’s never been able to keep one. And it feels like Eddie’s been his for months. Turns out he kinda _has_ been. 

“But,” Eddie starts. He does that squinting thing again. 

“But,” Richie parrots.

“Fuck, are you gonna make _me_ say it?” 

“I don’t know exactly what the fuck you’re trying to-”

“You fucking know,” Eddie snaps, dropping his head back on the pillow with a groan. Richie’s not sure how someone can simultaneously frustrate the hell out of him and turn him on. The Secret Kaspbrak Specialty. 

“Okay, _fuck_ , I don’t want to stop with Ben,” Richie says, and it feels like dropping a bomb, so his hand stills. 

Then Eddie presses hand to his eyes and sighs, “Yeah, me neither.” 

“What the _fuck_.” Richie fists Eddie’s cock and pumps double-time. “You had me thinking this was a _scary_ conversation.” 

Eddie lunges forward to lick at him, to pull him down by the neck, to moan into his mouth. They press together, two uneven lines, two heavy bodies, a mash of skin and hair just aching to _feel_. 

It’s such an astounding mix of new and familiar that Richie could cry. Because now it’s his. It gets to be _his_ and he knows it. But he wouldn’t mind if it were Ben’s, too. As long as he knows Eddie wants it, Eddie’s there, that Eddie wants Richie, too. That they could… both want him. 

“I want both of you, I just don’t know what that means or how to go about figuring it out, and _Beverly_ , like, I don’t wanna fuck her over but I’m pretty gay, and I think- I think you are too, and maybe Ben doesn’t even want-”

“Whoa, whoa, Spaghetti, let’s just- this is a really good conversation, totally rad, wanna continue it, but can I please make you come first?” 

Eddie’s panting, circling his hips into Richie’s palm. He scratches a line down Richie’s neck with his nails. Richie groans. Eddie is so fucking _hot_. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s- okay, let’s do that.” 

Richie’s got a tongue in his mouth before he knows it. And then a hand on his dick. After that, he kinda loses track of what goes where.

When Ben gets home the next morning, Beverly in tow, he looks at least mildly surprised to see Richie and Eddie snuggled up together on the sofa. 

“Oh _gentlemen_ ,” Bev says first, leering over the edge to ruffle at Eddie’s hair, “did you finally get your shit together after all?” 

Eddie ducks away, blushing. Richie leans over intending to peck him on the cheek, then catches Ben’s eye. 

“I- we-”

“Can we all, like, talk or something?” Eddie asks, and Richie scoffs. Ruffles at his hair, because Bev is a genius. Touching and teasing Eddie at the same time? Definitely his new (not so new) favorite thing. 

Ben nods, throat working, suspiciously quiet. Richie hates it. He suddenly wants to leave. 

Eddie slaps a hand down onto his thigh and catches him worrying. 

“We wanna talk, right?” he asks gently, tipping his cute little head down and wrinkling his forehead. 

Richie thinks of waking up in Eddie’s arms, soft and warm in his big bed where the sunlight covered him in comforting waves. Where they were finally able to discuss what they wanted without all the built up sexual tension. Of course, after they agreed to run it all past Ben, they _did_ fuck again, because Eddie wanted to return the favor, but now they’re… they’re marginally sated. 

Richie nods. Eddie pats him again. 

Ben sits in one chair and Bev the other, book-ending Richie and Eddie on the couch. 

“We did indeed, uh, figure some shit out last night,” Eddie starts.

“And this morning,” Richie adds. Eddie elbows him, but it cracks a smile in Ben. Richie’s shoulders slump from the relief. It’s something. 

“I’m really happy for you guys,” Ben says, steepling his fingers over his lap, “See? I _knew_ you didn’t need me to be able to talk to each other.” 

Richie’s ears start that helpful rushing again. Luckily he’s got Eddie. 

“Ben, what the _fuck_ , are you kidding?” Eddie’s gesturing pointedly now, but he’s taking care of business, so Richie hardly notices the cold absence of it on his thigh. Hardly. 

“W-what?” Ben stares across at Bev, who shrugs.

“Not only did you and Bev literally coach me through being in love a couple nights ago after Richie yelled at me: you fucking brought me coffee, kissed me on the forehead and told me I needed to talk to him,” Eddie says, and Richie’s neck almost snaps with how fast he turns.

“You got _coffee_?” Richie asks, looking back to Ben, who’s hanging his head. “And a _forehead kiss_?” 

Eddie slaps his thigh this time. “Richie, hush, that’s not the point.”

“You didn’t really deserve the kiss, Rich,” Ben tells him. Richie’s mouth drops open. 

Bev’s just nodding in her chair. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Eddie says, ignoring him, “We couldn’t have done any of this,” Eddie gestures between them this time, he and Richie, _Richie and Eddie_ , Richie thinks, “without you.”

Ben blinks, palming over both of his knees. 

“I don’t, uh. I mean-”

“I don’t think you guys should stop,” Bev interrupts. When they all turn to stare, she grins. “Whatever that means. I just don’t think you should stop if you don’t want to, Ben.” 

Richie imagines what he and Eddie must look like, a bouncing set of heads between them. Sounds like they aren’t the only ones fresh out of negotiation conversations. 

Ben groans. “Bev, we talked about-”

“Yeah, we did, and I understand where you’re coming from, but you know I don’t have a problem with this,” she says kindly, and now it’s her turn to gesture. “You deserve to have what you want. To have this. With all of us.” 

There’s some unspoken _this_ in the room. The fifth roommate, it seems. 

Eddie’s fingers start tapping against Richie’s thigh. It’s like an Eddie barometer. 

“So I assume you knew… about. This.” 

_This_. 

Bev’s already nodding, “The ‘fucking on camera for money’ thing or the ‘you’re all kind of in love with each other’ thing?”

Eddie’s eyes jump wide. Richie’s brain is back to static. Bev throws a hand up.

“Wait, wait, don’t answer that, ‘cause both my answers are yes,” she says before anyone can beat her to it.

She smiles again. 

Richie wonders if he loves her, too. Differently, but maybe. He really thinks he does. She’s all sweet, cutting advice and attitude and smarts and curse words. She’s soft and hard, just like her boyfriend, and Richie wants her around in his life. 

He’s starting to think there’s plenty of different ways to love people. He feels them all run through him concurrently, crossing streams to meld and then splitting apart again without losing any semblance of themselves. 

Ben’s twiddling his thumbs against his legs as Richie calms. 

“I didn’t say I was in _love_ with them,” Ben says, face going a little red. Bev sighs. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“Wow,” Eddie says, flat. Richie coughs a laugh. He looks to Eddie. Eddie kinda, just, tilts. 

“Is that true?” he asks Ben. Ben tilts back. 

“I don’t- I don’t know, I- I guess I’ve thought about it? Oh god, Bev, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, burying his head in his hands. Bev gets up to stand by his side. Richie feels like he should do the same thing. It kinda hits him, then. For real. 

“Dude, I think I- I think I kinda do, too,” Richie says. He looks to Eddie again. “Is that okay?” 

Eddie leans to kiss him, full on the mouth. As soon as he pulls away, he’s smiling. Richie loves him, too. God, but he does. 

“Of course,” he says. Richie knew it was coming, but it still feels like the opening of a door. A door he’s been standing outside of for months. “I love all of you. In different- it’s different, I know. And I don’t know what it means, I mean, that’s what I was telling Richie-”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, guys, I have no idea what the fuck any of this means,” Richie says, and it surprises a laugh out of the room. 

Richie warms, deep in his chest. Eddie takes his hand. Ben clears his throat.

“Can we like- try to just figure it out together, maybe?" he asks, looking up at Bev in question. She’s had the same damn grin stuck to her face since they started. Richie now just assumes she’s been in on this all along.

 _This_. 

“I think that sounds good,” she says. 

“I’m up for it,” Eddie says, bringing his legs up onto the couch. Richie throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. 

“You know I’m always along for the ride.”

They talk and make dinner and talk and do just a touch of kissing, just to try it out, and then talk some more. The last one feels more like a debriefing than anything, and that leads to the three guys in a panting heap on the couch, on _their_ couch, while Bev looks on from one of the chairs. 

Before they’re able to break for bed, or more accurately, before Richie’s able to drag Eddie into their room ( _their room_?) to follow up on some of the dirty promises he made last night, and this morning, and in their make out pile just now, Ben stops them. 

“Wait, wait, one thing,” he says, peeling Bev’s arms from around his neck. Eddie grunts into Richie’s mouth. 

“I thought we agreed we’d deal with it when it comes!” Eddie gasps. 

“Yeah, or when _we_ come,” Richie snickers. Eddie licks over his chin and he recoils. Ben shakes his head. 

“No, no, no, what about the _show_?” 

Richie’s hands freeze where they’re cupped over Eddie’s ass. Oh, _fuck_. That’s right. They’d totally forgotten about the fucking _show_. 

All three of them stammer out half-thoughts and nothing-answers until Bev whistles between them in the hallway. Richie didn’t even know she could _do_ that. Maybe he’s a little less gay than he thought… Or maybe Beverly is always going to be some sort of weird exception for him. 

Then she’s back to that creepy grin. It’s creepy now, he’s decided. She always throws it on like she’s scheming. 

“Voyeurism is popular, right?” she says, and they all stare.

“I guess,” Ben says.

Turns out she _is_ scheming.

Richie definitely loves her. 

“Isn’t that kinda what we were just doing?” she says.

It’s a long time before Ben finally mumbles a stunned “oh.” 

Once they finally, actually make it to their bedrooms, with a solid plan for their next show, they’re a little more riled up than before. 

Good thing Eddie’s still stretched from the night before. 

And the night before that. 

Their graduation party is a bit of a banger, and Richie is _definitely_ one to brag, so he plans on talking about it for years to come.

Technically it’s more of a party to celebrate the re-signing of their lease, including Bev this time, but blaming it on the end of the semester seems a bit more, uh, _publicly_ _admissible_ than the truth of “we’re all in some sorta love and we kinda wanna get drunk with our friends and then film ourselves fucking afterwards!” 

Richie wouldn’t mind letting people know, but hey, not everyone is as evolved as one Mr. Richard Tozier. Plus one of Richie’s boyfriends wants to be a lawyer someday. And Edward ‘Spaghetti’ Kaspbrak, (Future) Esquire is still a bit wary about airing his poly-laundry for everyone to see. 

Richie likes to remind him it’s literally _available_ for all to see on the internet. Including their most recent session, when Bev did more than just watch in the corner, and very, very, very long story short: Ben was still able to keep Eddie inside him, and Richie inside _Eddie_ , as he ate her out to completion. 

It was quite the revelation. Even Eddie blushed at the memory, but not until _after_ he shoved Richie off the couch for bringing it up in relation to his scholarly law studies. 

In any case, the party’s a banger. Unfortunately, Richie spends most of the time stuck in the kitchen with some fucking _drip_ of a human being Ben brought. He’s babbling on about environmental security in this new age, when he refers to himself in the third person.

Richie’s gut says _eye roll_ , but then his fuzzy brain catches up.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, pressing a hand to the dude’s chest, “did you say your name is _Pete_?” 

“Pete” gapes, his fucking gin & tonic hanging heavy in his hand. Eddie loves those, too, and frankly, no matter how pretentious Richie finds it, he loves licking the pine needle taste out of Eddie’s mouth at the end of the night. Maybe tonight he’ll make Ben do it, first. Kind of a sexy game of telephone. But before _that_ thought derails him, Richie moves back to his stunning revelation.

“Yeah, it’s… that’s my name, I actually introduced myself when we-”

“Is that short for Peter, perchance?” Richie asks. Pete gapes again. God, what is _with_ this guy?

“Yeah. Peter.”

“Oh _fuck_ , dude, nice to meet you!” 

“Uh, thanks?” 

Richie beams and sips at his beer. “So _the_ Peter, huh? Man, you’re kind of a fucking legend around these parts, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Peter does that funny little squint Eddie shoots Richie when he does something particularly confounding. 

“W- really? I mean, I’m flattered, I guess, but-”

“Yeah, yeah, so like. Are you still- ya know?” Richie makes a crude gesture, some sort of jerking over his crotch. Figures that’ll sell the point. But Peter keeps staring.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Whoa,” Richie says, watching Peter square up his shoulders, “I didn’t mean anything by it, dude, it’s all good, I mean, we’re all in the same _business_ , if you catch my drift,” Richie finishes with a timely snort. 

“You’re- are you- I thought you said you were a comedian.” 

Richie laughs. “No, the _other_ business.” 

“Dude, listen, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, but I think I’m gonna find someone else at this party right now ‘cause you’re coming on a little strong,” Peter says in a rush, pushing past Richie and heading for the living room. Richie stumbles back to stop him, suddenly feeling like he’s somehow made an ass of himself. 

It’s not like the first time, but he’s trying to watch it now. Plus he actually, like, _cares_. Now that there are people who care about him. 

Now that there are people _trying_ for him. 

“The cam boy show, man,” Richie spits out.

Peter’s eyes go funky, not a whiff of recognition between them. He whirls around and leaves. 

Richie stands in the kitchen, blinking at the faux-backsplash Bev slapped up last week, little sprinkles of teal among the charcoal gray they all let simmer in mediocrity before she pointed out how bland everything was in their living space. 

Peter had no idea- _wait_. 

He sprints full speed into the living room to see Ben spread out on the couch, Beverly laid out on top of him, his head resting in Eddie’s lap. He takes but one moment to appreciate how cute they all are, all of his… his _people_ , before- 

“Benjamin, you fucking horny, lying _master-mind_!” 

He points, just to drive the accusation home. Ben barely flinches. 

“What?” he asks on the happy side of a giggle, and Bev pinches at the meat of his belly. Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead. Jesus, are they always this obvious? 

“You, fucking-” Richie stops. Looks around at the crowds of people delightfully gathered to celebrate them. Okay, it’s, like, ten people. Bev’s friends Mike and… something starting with a B? Honestly, Richie was a little too thrown by how _tall_ Mike is to pay attention to his name, but they’re off necking in the corner, and everyone else is swaying to the music. 

It’s probably fine. But he settles on vague. Seems safer.

“I just had a _very_ confusing conversation with a certain Peter.” 

Ben’s head flings out of Eddie’s lap with a start. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he says. 

Richie could laugh, he could cry, he could be mad. He’s definitely going to laugh later, and maybe that’ll lead to crying, because honestly this is pretty fucking hilarious when he thinks about it. 

But for right now, staring down at all three of them on the couch, the memory of inking over a line, of four separate lines to _promise_ another year together: it’s getting him a little soft.

Where it counts. 

The rest he can leave up to them. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and letting me know your thoughts, if you came here to @ me about ANY negative poly thoughts please go away, I am not kidding.
> 
> LOVE. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment or yell at me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/camerasparring) or BOTH, I love to hear from you if you're able/willing.
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/)!


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